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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609499">Just a Casual, Casual Easy Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlcaddy/pseuds/pearlcaddy'>pearlcaddy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>100 Bad Days [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter is My Love Language so It's Jukebox's Too, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies with Benefits to Bandmates to Lovers, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Living!Phantoms AU, Minor Alex Mercer/Willie, Minor Reggie Peters/Kayla, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Content, aged up character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:13:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlcaddy/pseuds/pearlcaddy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the worst year of Julie’s life and she’s just trying to make it through her classes at USC. Luke’s an angry townie who keeps making things worse. Or better. She’s not sure which. She’ll probably just keep hooking up with him until she figures it out.</p><p>Julie’s POV on the Enemies with Benefits to Bandmates to Lovers AU that no one was asking for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Flynn &amp; Julie Molina, Julie Molina &amp; Alex Mercer, Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Alex Mercer &amp; Reggie Peters, Julie Molina &amp; Ray Molina, Julie Molina &amp; Reggie Peters, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>100 Bad Days [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>979</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>824</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. All I Feel is Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandy Warhols<br/>Chapter title from “Carry On” by The Score and AWOLNATION</p><p>This is a companion to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232234/chapters/66523612">A Hundred Bad Days (Made a Hundred Good Stories)</a>. The first chapter should make sense if you haven’t read “100 Bad Days,” but future chapters won’t, so be sure to read that first! Each chapter of "Casual" will explore Julie’s POV for the equivalent chapter of 100 Bad Days. It’ll be mostly new moments/extensions of existing scenes rather than re-treads of 100 Bad Days scenes.</p><p>The playlist for this fic is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xEvzpxtP9cjH28EqujXOk?si=qPF4FFPWQO2heUcXzo7DYg">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julie’s never thought of herself as an angry person, but for the last two months she’s been constantly on the verge of screaming.</p><p>Her world ended, and yet the earth continues to turn and she doesn’t know what to do with that. On the one hand, she wants the world to just stop and collapse around her, to acknowledge that her mom is gone and nothing will ever be right again, and to allow Julie to fall apart. On the other hand, she needs the world to keep turning, to give her something to do, some sense of purpose and normalcy and distraction.</p><p>But she’s not getting either of those things. The world is still turning, but it’s accommodating her, and it pisses her off. She thinks she’s supposed to be grateful that people are being kind and gentle, that professors are making exceptions, that her voice teacher lets her talk about music during lessons instead of pressuring her to sing. But she wants to unload her fury somewhere, she wants to make horrible decisions, and she’s exhausted from acting polite and responsible when all she wants to do is grab the nearest person and yell in their face.</p><p>Had she met Luke at any other time, she probably would have just ignored him and excused herself. But she doesn’t. Because she meets him during one of the worst months of her life, on the night before her big theory final, when Flynn has to physically drag her out of Doheny Library.</p><p>“Flynn, even if I wanted to go to a party, I’m not dressed for it.” As they stand outside the raging house, Julie gestures desperately at her t-shirt and sweatpants. She hasn’t showered in [redacted], she’s got a backpack full of textbooks (which, to be honest, she hasn’t read but the aesthetic makes her feel more studious), and she’s a mess. She really doesn’t want to be around people tonight, unless those people are willing to let her scream at them.</p><p>“You need to take breaks from studying or you’re going to crack that brain in half,” Flynn insists.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure that’s not how brains work.”</p><p>“Let’s not find out. Come on, I want you to meet that guy Alex I ran into earlier.”</p><p>“Alex who poured a frappuccino on you?”</p><p>“He seems really nice and he said his friends were going to be there, and his friends are cute and single and interested in women.”</p><p>Julie raises a dubious eyebrow. “Is that how he described them?”</p><p>“I extrapolated.”</p><p>Flynn usually extrapolates correctly, so Julie doesn’t doubt her, but: “I am really not looking to date right now.”</p><p>“Of course, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying some guilt-free eye candy. Come onnn. I just want you to let loose for, like an hour and a half. Then you can go back to your books.” And without letting Julie continue to argue, Flynn grabs her hand and tugs her into the house.</p><p>A blonde guy, presumably Alex, waves exuberantly the instant they step through the door, and Flynn drags Julie over to him.</p><p>The first thing Julie notices is that Alex’s friends are, indeed, cute. The second thing she notices is that the guy in the middle looks like a jackass.</p><p>A hot jackass. But a jackass nonetheless.</p><p>Maybe that’s unfair, but it’s her instinctive reaction to guys in sleeveless shirts with big armholes. If it was just a shirt without sleeves, she would get it. They’re in LA and it’s early May, which can reasonably be described as sleeveless weather. But cutoffs immediately remind her of the douchiest USC frat guys whose main personality trait always seems to be “excessively proud of having visible pecs.”</p><p>Is he pulling it off? Sure. Fine. Congratulations, dude, you’re very hot.</p><p>But does he look like he’s probably obscenely excited about lifting? Also yes.</p><p>It takes her another moment to clock that it’s a faded Yardbirds shirt, which doesn’t completely fit with her narrative about cutoffs. Whatever. Douchey frat bros can like The Yardbirds.</p><p>As Flynn slips in to give Alex a side hug, he explains to his friends, “Flynn is my new best friend.”</p><p>Flynn laughs. “We met five hours ago at Starbucks.”</p><p>Hot Frat Jackass shakes his head at his friend and bounces up on the balls of his feet, like he’s already impatient with this conversation. “How do you meet people at Starbucks?”</p><p>“I’m a very friendly person. I make friends wherever I go.” </p><p>“He spilled his drink on me,” Flynn clarifies.</p><p>“Technically, yes. But I like to think that the drink was doing the work of destiny.”</p><p>Julie remembers Flynn’s initial text of “FUCKING FRAPP ALL OVER MY BEST JEANS,” and can’t help but be sarcastic. “Destiny famously works through salted caramel frappuccinos.”</p><p>But Flynn seems to have moved on from her rage, and waves it away. “This is Julie, my bestie.”</p><p>Alex smiles at her, all warm politeness. “Nice to meet you, fellow best friend of Flynn. This is Luke and Reggie.” He says their names as if Luke and Reggie are famous and she must, naturally, know who they are.</p><p>“<i>The</i> Luke and Reggie?” Julie gasps sarcastically.</p><p>Hot Frat Jackass does a little head nod at “Luke.” Huh. She associates “Luke” with “Skywalker,” and that doesn’t really fit with her “obnoxious gym dude” narrative. Whatever. Douchey frat bros can be named Luke.</p><p><strike>Hot Frat Jackass</strike> Luke laughs. “We’re bandmates.”</p><p>“And housemates and platonic soulmates,” Reggie adds. “Come on, Luke, there’s more to us than just the band.”</p><p>She’s immediately reminded of a time when she was eight and she and her mother were hanging out in a coffee shop writing a song together. One of her mom’s coworkers ran into them and said, “This must be your daughter!” in that babying tone adults sometimes use. Young Julie levelled her with what had at the time felt like a very stern look, and insisted, “I’m her writing partner,” as if that was the primary relationship she had with the woman who gave birth to her.</p><p>Swallowing a smile, Julie shifts her backpack from one shoulder to the other to alleviate the ache caused by the stack of aesthetic textbooks.</p><p>“You go to Thornton?” Luke asks, reading her t-shirt.</p><p>He’s a musician, so she’s not really surprised that he’s familiar with the school. But he’s eyeing her shirt like it’s a red flag and he’s a bull, which is… weird. “Yeah, I’m vocal arts.”</p><p>“So, what, like, opera and shit?”</p><p>The last thing she wants to do in the middle of finals weeks after two months of not singing is talk about how she’s technically a vocal major but no she doesn’t sing and yes isn’t it sad and yes of course he’s very sorry for her loss, so she just nods. “And shit, yeah.”</p><p>Luckily, Alex changes the topic before Luke can reply and she thinks that’s the end of questions about singing. Until Luke hovers at the karaoke machine and turns to her with (admittedly pretty effective) puppy dog eyes, and holds the mic out to her. “You wanna duet?” he asks.</p><p>Even just the sight of a mic pointed in her direction makes her heart beat faster. “No thanks,” she insists immediately.</p><p>She expects that the conversation will just move on, but then he… sneers. “What, the Thornton princess is too good to sing modern music?”</p><p>…</p><p>Um.</p><p>What the fuck?</p><p>Admittedly, she probably could have said “no” a little more politely—her tone was clipped and her whole posture is stiff—but none of that justifies him. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“I’m sure they’ve got ‘Queen of the Night’ on here if you only know boring arias.”</p><p>Her mouth almost drops open, but what really shocks her is that, yeah, she’s pissed off cause fuck this guy he’s such a dick, but the part of her that’s been treated with kid gloves for the past two months feels so fucking alive for a second, like she’s briefly being given permission to be herself. To let out her fury.</p><p>“Dude—” Flynn tries to intervene on her behalf, but Julie steps up to him, furiously delighted. She’s been wanting to yell for months. She’s gonna fucking yell.</p><p>“First of all, it’s ‘Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen.’ The Queen of the Night is the character who sings that aria. Second of all, I fucking rock ‘Der Hölle Rache’ and you don’t deserve to hear me sing it for free. Third, you couldn’t handle the coloratura, and fourth, you’re an asshole.”</p><p>He stares at her, shocked, and she feels a flush of victory. She hears Alex snap his approval, and almost smiles. Okay, so at least his bandmates aren’t the kind of people who just excuse a friend’s douchey behavior.</p><p><strike>Luke</strike> Hot Frat Jackass turns on Alex. “Bro, seriously?”</p><p>Alex waves his arms, forcibly excluding himself from the conversation. “Dude, words cannot express how much I am not on your side.”</p><p>Hot Frat Jackass looks to Reggie next, but Reggie shakes his head aggressively. So Hot Frat Jackass turns back to her and holds out the mic again and, for a second, her anger overrides her fear and she’s almost tempted to take it. Almost. “Then prove me wrong. Sing something post-1700s.”</p><p>And she finally gets to say what she’s wanted to say to the whole damn world for the past two months:</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p>
<hr/><p>She thinks that’s going to be the end of it, but actually getting to unleash her anger, even for a moment, sets her heart racing and gets the adrenaline running through her and… well, she kinda wants to go back and keep yelling at him.</p><p>Dr. Turner would definitely not approve.</p><p>She goes to the bathroom to splash some cool water on her face, and it sort of helps, but her hands are still trembling, like residual fury is still flowing through her body that she needs to expel.</p><p>So in a way, she’s happy when she steps out of the bathroom and sees Hot Frat Jackass coming down the hallway. As soon as he sees her, his stride gets bouncy, verging on a swagger. Like he thinks he’s hot shit.</p><p>God, this guy is the worst.</p><p>“Is the Thornton Princess done with her Porcelain Throne?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.</p><p>“What the fuck is your problem? You majoring in Dickhead Studies?” Okay, not her best, but it’s been a while since she’s been in a verbal sparring arena.</p><p>The corner of his mouth curls up, ugly. “We don’t all need to shell out $224,000 for a piece of paper that pretends we’re important.”</p><p>Huh. So he’s not Hot Frat Jackass. He’s Hot Townie Jackass.</p><p>(Maybe she should have clocked that he knows the current USC tuition rate off the top of his head, but it’s really not her focus at the moment.)</p><p>“So eager to start your life as a professional dickhead that you skipped the degree?” Sneering, she steps closer to him, and only then does she realize how close they’ve gotten. She feels a flash in her core, that same urge she felt outside the house. The urge to do something irresponsible, because yelling at this guy isn’t quite scratching her itch to burn down the world.</p><p>“What can I say? Natural talent.” His breath washes over her face, warm.</p><p>She shoves her face closer. “You’re bragging about being a dick?”</p><p>“At least I got something to brag about.”</p><p>She suspects they’ve both lost the plot a bit. </p><p>“Do you ever shut up?”</p><p>“Only if you make me.”</p><p>Normally, she wouldn’t. Julie three months ago would have laughed in this guy’s face and marched away. But Julie today wants to scream into a void. And since no one’s providing a void, this guy’s mouth will have to do.</p><p>She makes the first move, but he’s only a beat behind and suddenly they’ve got their arms around each other and their mouths are locked in an aggressive battle, and it’s sloppy and angry and irresponsible and exactly the kind of mistake that she wants to make.</p><p>He presses her up against the wall and it’s almost what she wants. But not quite. She gets her leg between his, grinding against his thigh. He groans in her mouth, dirty and rumbling through her, and grips her closer. She has no idea how long they’re dry humping in this hallway, but she’s dimly aware of someone yelling, “Get a room!”</p><p>He fumbles for the bathroom door and pulls them in and sets her on the countertop and she reaches for his belt and from there on things are…</p><p>… surprising.</p><p>She still has vivd memories of a horrific sex ed class in high school, where a very embarrassed but determined health teacher told them all, “The vaginal orgasm is like a delicate butterfly that must be carefully coaxed into the net.” It was horrible, awkward imagery, but to be honest, Julie’s never found the description to be completely wrong (though it probably doesn’t help that whenever she can feel herself getting anywhere near having one, the image of a butterfly fleeing a net comes to mind.)</p><p>She’s certainly not expecting anything out of a fumbled, rage- and desperation-driven bathroom hookup other than some pleasant sensations.</p><p>But “The Hills” blasts through the downstairs stereo system, making the counter under her vibrate. And as soon as Hot Jackass is inside her, he attaches his mouth to her neck, sucking right at her pulse point. He grips her ass with one hand, grinding her into him in time to the music. His other hand slips between her legs and she registers that it’s his left hand, that his fingernails are very short, that there are thick calluses on his fingertips that… honestly, feel really fucking divine against her sensitive skin. As ridiculous as it is that she pays attention to this in the moment, the feel of his hand is all it takes to put the pieces together: he’s a guitarist.</p><p>He fucks her to the beat of "The Hills" and, with the addition of his mouth, his fingers, and the vibrating counter, she comes apart. She has to bite his shoulder to keep herself quiet, and he sucks into her neck more sharply, groaning as he shudders within her. </p><p>In the immediate aftermath, she becomes aware of the scent of sickly sweet fake vanilla embedded on his skin, like some sort of nauseating perfume has been rubbed all over him. Jesus, how many times has this dude done this today?</p><p>As he withdraws, they come out of their rage-fueled haze. He awkwardly ties off the condom and tosses it into the bathroom trash can. They both stare at the trash for a moment, delaying having to make eye contact.</p><p>He breaks first, glancing shyly at her with a puppy dog face that mirrors the one he made when he offered her the mic. His expression is almost… bashful and gentle, and that doesn’t make sense.</p><p>Alright, well, this has gone from angry and satisfying to awkward and confusing. She pulls up her sweatpants, hoping the rest of her isn’t in too much of a state. “Go to hell,” she manages, and marches out of the bathroom.</p><p>She finds Flynn by the entrance of the house. Her friend takes one look at her, and then at her neck which… obviously Julie can’t see it, but she feels like she’s going to have a fairly spectacular hickey.</p><p>“… where were you?” asks Flynn, like she already knows.</p><p><i>Screaming into a void</i> isn’t an answer that will make any sense to anyone else, so Julie shrugs as casually as she can and says, “I figured if he was going to get fucked, I might as well enjoy myself.”</p><p>Flynn stares at her. “Luke???”</p><p>Julie shrugs. “You said you wanted me to let loose for an hour and a half. It’s been an hour and a half, and I let loose. Now I’m going to study.”</p><p>And she does.</p>
<hr/><p>For the most part, she kind of forgets about him, except for the one time Alex drops by to hang out with Flynn before the end of the academic year.</p><p>She can’t get a read on his face—does he know what happened? Does Hot Jackass brag about all his hookups? Or does he have so many that none of them warrant mentioning?—but her hair covers her still-healing hickey and she just smiles politely at Alex.</p><p>He smiles back, then his face crumples apologetically. “Listen, I’m really sorry about Luke. Sometimes when music stuff comes up, he forgets that there are people involved. He’s a good guy, but he’s a mess, and there’s no excuse, and he won’t bother you again. I hope the two of us can still be friends.”</p><p>She shrugs. “Of course. We all know assholes.”</p><p>Alex opens his mouth to reply, but Flynn appears and asks if he’s ready to go, and after that, Julie really doesn’t think about Hot Jackass for almost four months.</p><p>It’s not until the end of August that she sees him again. Her dad and brother are helping her move into her new apartment for sophomore year, and they go off on a mission for ice cream while she signs some final paperwork for her landlord. Afterwards, she goes to meet them, and as she rounds the corner in University Village and the gelato shop comes into view, she stops dead.</p><p>Through the glass window, she can see Hot Jackass standing at the register, smiling as he passes her dad and brother cups of gelato.</p><p>Oh god.</p><p>Well, she can’t go in there <i>now</i>. She doesn’t want to have an awkward conversation with the asshole she had hate sex with ever, but especially not in front of her dad and brother. Odds are he’s completely forgotten her, but if he hasn’t, she doesn’t want to risk him letting something slip. And she’s definitely worried that she’ll blurt out something horrifying like, “Isn’t it weird that your dick’s been inside me?”</p><p>So she waits outside at a distance.</p><p>As her father and brother go over to the napkin station, she sees Hot Jackass watching them. She wonders what he’s seeing: her dad in his USC Dad shirt, Carlos in his oversized Trojan football jersey, somehow already drenched in gelato. Her dad is laughing with Carlos as he wipes gelato off with a napkin, and an impossibly soft smile spreads over Hot Jackass’s face.</p><p>It’s not the polite customer service smile he gave them at the register. It’s genuine and gentle, like he’s enjoying the affection between them, but there’s also something deeply wistful about it. She feels the tug to figure out what’s behind that look, because he suddenly looks small and longing, almost…</p><p>… well, almost like she imagines she looks when she sees girls with their mothers.</p><p>She doesn’t forgive him, or even dislike him any less, but that look on his face is a reminder that he’s an actual person, with a whole inner life that she knows nothing about. She’d like him to be a cartoon villain because he was SUCH a dick. But, begrudgingly, she can feel him switch in her mind from being the Hot Jackass she hate-fucked to being Luke, a human being.</p>
<hr/><p>Maybe that’s why, when Flynn tells her that Alex’s band is having a garage party, Julie says she’ll go.</p><p>Or maybe it’s because she ran into Carrie earlier on campus, and the girl made a crack about Julie looking forward to another silent semester. Julie’s got that feeling again, that simmering rage that she wants to unleash somewhere. </p><p>Flynn raises a skeptical eyebrow as Julie looks through her closet for something to wear. “Luke will be there.”</p><p>She shrugs. “I can handle Luke.”</p><p>“That’s what I’m worried about.”</p><p>“Not like that! I was in a bad place.” As if she’s not still in a bad place. “I made a bad decision.” A bad decision that she doesn’t regret because she burned off the bottled rage inside her for long enough to ace that theory final. “He was an asshole, he’s probably still an asshole, and I’m not going to hook-up with him again.”</p><p>Flynn doesn’t look convinced, and Julie isn’t sure whether that’s fair or not. </p><p>“Look, he’s a self-obsessed player. I was one random girl. He’s not even going to remember me. We’ll shake hands and say ‘hi.’”</p><p>Flynn looks even less convinced. “I really don’t think that’s how this is gonna play out, but if you’re sure you can handle it.”</p>
<hr/><p>By the time they get to the garage party (fashionably late, at Flynn’s insistence), the guys are playing a cover of “The Man” by The Killers.</p><p>She’s irritated to realize two things: one, they’re good. Really good. All three of them, but Luke in particular. And two, she likes this song, so they have good taste in music.</p><p>The upside is that it’s an extremely arrogant song, and he’s performing it very arrogantly. (Years later, she’ll remember this performance and tell him about it, and his voice will go all high as he defensively shrieks, “There’s no other way <i>to</i> perform it! You have to act like an arrogant dick or you’re not doing it justice!”) But in the moment, she’s struck by the fact that, even if he is a really good musician, he is <i>exactly</i> the arrogant dick she thought he was at the house party. Which is only emphasized by the fact that she and Flynn have arrived as he’s singing the most arrogant verse.</p><p>
  <i>When it comes to Friday, I always earn<br/>
But don't try to teach me, I got nothing to learn</i>
</p><p>He’s doing a bouncy strut in front of his mic stand like he thinks he’s some kind of musical god.</p><p>
  <i>'Cause baby I'm gifted<br/>
You see what I mean?</i>
</p><p>He winks into the crowd. Alex and Reggie exchange a glance and laugh, affectionately exasperated.</p><p>
  <i>USDA certified lean</i>
</p><p>As he sings that final line of the verse, he juts his hips forward and rolls his body, running his lower lip through his teeth.</p><p>It’s very irritating, because he clearly thinks he’s super hot but also he <i>is</i> super hot and a flash of heat runs through her as she remembers how hard he made her come in that bathroom.</p><p>
  <i>I'm the man, come round<br/>
Nothing can break, you can't break me down<br/>
I got gas in the tank<br/>
I got money in the bank</i>
</p><p>All of a sudden, she realizes that her fingertips feel itchy. There’s a part of her, a part that has been silent for months, a part that she thought was gone, that feels the lack of the keyboard in the background, that wants to jump in and fill out the instrumentals.</p><p>
  <i>I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man<br/>
I got skin in the game<br/>
I don't feel no pain<br/>
I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man</i>
</p><p>Luke pops over to share the mic with Reggie, and Reggie and Alex sing the back-up vocals. Underneath the arrogance that the guitarist and bassist are both projecting, she can see the fond, brotherly smiles they’re exchanging, the same ones that Alex is sending at them.</p><p>This guy may be an asshole, but these boys are a family, and there’s something undeniably sweet about that.</p><p>
  <i>Who's the man? Who's the man?<br/>
I'm the man, I'm the man<br/>
Who's the man with the plan?<br/>
I'm the man<br/>
Who's the man? Who's the man?<br/>
I'm the man, I'm the man<br/>
Who's the man with the plan?<br/>
I'm the man</i>
</p><p>As he stalks around confidently, shredding on his guitar and occasionally popping to the mic to sing the vocals of the post-chorus, she feels a begrudging admiration for him. She hasn’t sung in six months, and here he is, putting in the work and pursuing his dreams. And she can tell from the blissed-out glow on his face as he plays that he feels the same way about music that she used to. Like every time he’s making it, he becomes a little more him. Like this is his true form and everywhere else he's only a partial version of himself.</p><p>He’s an asshole. But he’s a musician, a real performer. Not Hot Frat Jackass, but Hot Rock Band Jackass. Different brand of insufferable, but much closer to the brand of human she appreciates.</p><p>
  <i>I'm the man<br/>
Oooh<br/>
I'm the man<br/>
I'm the man</i>
</p><p>As his eyes run over the crowd, they land on her and he freezes. He almost seems to forget his next line.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>So he does remember her.</p><p>
  <i>I got gas in the tank<br/>
I got money in the bank<br/>
I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man<br/>
I got skin in the game</i>
</p><p>He makes direct eye contact with her, singing the next lines to her.</p><p>
  <i>Headed for the hall of fame<br/>
I got news for you baby, you're looking at the man</i>
</p><p>He winks. She rolls her eyes disdainfully, and lets Flynn pull her to the drinks table, determinedly ignoring the band for the rest of the song.</p><p>When the guys finally take a break, Flynn goes up to say hi to Alex. Julie could stay behind but… she’s curious. Luke confuses her.</p><p>She hovers behind Flynn, flashing Alex a quick smile. Then she glances over at Luke.</p><p>He swigs water from his bottle and smirks. “Long time, no see.”</p><p>She really can’t get a read on what he’s doing. Is he trying to pick a fight with her? Is he flirting? Both? Does he even know? She decides to hedge her bets and assume the worst. Rolling her eyes, she sneers, “Does anyone else get the mic, or are we stuck listening to your voice all night?”</p><p>A lazy grin spreads over his face. “I’d say you could sing ‘Der Hölle Rache,’ but we don’t have an orchestra on hand.” A reluctant snort comes out of her. “You <i>could</i> sing with us, but all our music’s from this millennium. Couple centuries after your time, I think.”</p><p>Ugh, he really will not move off of this “you didn’t sing karaoke with me once, you must be out of touch” thing. What the fuck is with this guy? “What are you playing next?”</p><p>“‘By Myself.’ FIDLAR.” He smirks again, like he’s sure she’s never heard of FIDLAR.</p><p>Like her mom wasn’t the one who introduced her to them.</p><p>Like her mom hadn’t gifted her their third album just before she died and told her, very seriously, “You know what FIDLAR stands for, <i>mija</i>? ‘Fuck it dog, life’s a risk.’”</p><p>Flynn’s gentle hand squeezes Julie’s arm. “Jules, let’s just go.”</p><p>But she looks at Luke’s smug face, and she sees Carrie’s snide face from earlier, and she sees all the kind, accommodating faces of everyone who’s treated her like a fragile little girl for the past six months, and that constantly simmering rage boils over.</p><p>Her fingertips itch.</p><p>Fuck it dog, life’s a risk.</p><p>She snatches the mic from him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs/musical references in this chapter:<br/>• The Yardbirds (Luke’s got an Eric Clapton fixation. That’s my headcanon and I won’t be dissuaded from it.)<br/>• "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen"<br/>• "The Hills" by The Weeknd<br/>• "The Man" by The Killers<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Let Me Live in the Eye of the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Hold On" by Twin Atlantic</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julie is relieved to discover the small alleyway behind the garage because she needs a moment by herself to think.</p><p>Her whole body is still shaking after singing for the first time in six months, and she’s not sure whether it’s victory adrenaline or whether she’s about to start sobbing. Almost like she ran a marathon while watching a very sad movie. She wants…</p><p>… fuck, she just wants her mom to give her a hug.</p><p>Julie rests her back against the chain link fence and props her leg up on the wall in front of her, letting the narrow space hold her.</p><p>She’d always planned for “Wake Up” to be the first song she sang. Thematically and emotionally, it had felt right. But “Wake Up” has terrified her for six months. Singing it felt like it was going to be a final goodbye to her mother, and she wasn’t ready for that, so apparently the first song she actually sang was a random FIDLAR song that had nothing to do with her life, which she performed largely to spite some jackass she’d hate-fucked one time.</p><p>Her eyes turn to the skies, almost wanting to ask her mother if she would have been disappointed, but… Rose Molina would have approved. Julie knows it in her bones. Hell, she could almost <i>feel</i> her mother at her side tonight as she was singing, like she was there roaring approval at her daughter’s spiteful performance. But Julie still wishes she could hear <i>how</i> her mother would have approved. Her mother always had a way with words.</p><p>She hears the sound of footsteps at the end of the alleyway. Luke hovers hesitantly in the entrance, watching her with guilt all over his face. Hoping she looks fierce, she crosses her arms.</p><p>But he comes down the alleyway contritely, holding up his hands, and she can’t find it in herself to feel as angry as she wants to because…</p><p>Well, she sang with him.</p><p>In the same way that there are people who can’t have sex without getting attached, Julie doesn’t know how to perform with someone without starting to like them. Even a song like “By Myself” that means almost nothing to her is still engaging a part of her soul, and she suspects it’s the same for Luke, Alex, and Reggie. You can’t share core pieces of yourself with someone and not feel connected to them.</p><p>It helps that Luke’s stopped smirking, and that that insufferable bounce is finally missing from his step.</p><p>So for the beginning of their conversation, she thinks she can move past her first impression of him. He’s genuinely penitent, he’s honest about his failings, and there’s that wistful look on his face when she asks why he hates USC that reminds her that he’s a human being. A confusing human who, as Alex said, is clearly a mess, but a human regardless who genuinely seems to want to make up for his mistakes.</p><p>And he’s watching her with something akin to awe.</p><p>It’s been so long since anyone has looked at her like that without then telling her, “You’re so brave.” Which she hates. She’s terrified and angry and she just wants her mom. STOP SAYING SHE’S BRAVE.</p><p>But he’s not calling her brave. He’s calling her incredible.</p><p>She can’t meet his gaze. Here he is, performing in a band, making his own gigs to get a following, keeping his nose to the grindstone, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his passion… and here she is, still trembling twenty minutes after singing one song.</p><p>“I haven’t been incredible for six months.”</p><p>He leans against the fence next to her, facing her. “Agree to disagree,” he murmurs.</p><p>His face is open and honest, that puppy dog look in his eyes again. It’s hard to square this earnest guy with the asshole who called her a princess. But he can’t be both super hot and super sweet, can he? That feels excessive for one person. Especially a person looking at her like <i>that</i>, like she’s special.</p><p>“I didn’t agree to that,” she breathes. Her eyes flicker to his lips briefly, and she’s acutely aware that she’s wearing a skirt and his hand is hanging right next to her leg and it would be so easy for him to…</p><p>“Seriously, you know how many people would kill for an ounce of your talent? Or for your place at Thornton?” Okay, apparently she’s the only one with her mind in the gutter. He’s probably already had his fill for the day, if the faint smell of vanilla bleeding through the scent of sweat on his skin is any indication.</p><p>“Murder is unnecessary. They’re welcome to my place and my voice.” She feels a stab of guilt, like she’s wasting a precious resource that someone else would make better use of.</p><p>A look crosses Luke’s face that reminds her eerily of Flynn’s family cat whenever someone starts eating food and has the audacity to not give him any. “How can you say that? No real musician would ever give up music.”</p><p>She’s been telling herself the same thing for months. But when he says it, it’s rude. When she thinks it, it’s accurate.</p><p>(Dr. Turner disagrees. But Dr. Turner isn’t here.)</p><p>“Then I guess I’m not a real musician,” she snaps.</p><p>But he’s not backing down, and as much as it pisses her off, there’s something refreshing about having someone be openly frustrated with her instead of accommodating her. “That performance you just gave? That’s a real musician. You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t love that.”</p><p>“I didn’t.” More accurately, she doesn’t <i>want</i> to love it. She wants to let music go: she wishes she didn’t want to pick up a mic or sit at a piano ever again because her mother can’t hear her. How can she perform without her mother by her side or in the crowd? How can she <i>want</i> to? She feels guilty about not performing and she feels guilty about wanting to perform, and she doesn’t know how to have a relationship with music when she’s drowning in guilt from all sides.</p><p>“You’re lying.”</p><p>How dare he know that when they’ve spent all of two hours together. “You don’t know me.” </p><p>“I don’t need to. I saw your face.”</p><p>“Yeah? Do you see my face now?” She holds up her middle finger in front of her nose, trying desperately to create some distance. She feels transparent right now and she hates it.</p><p>He steps closer to her, and her heart picks up speed. “I may not know you very well, but I know what you look like when you’re satisfied.” She’d think it was just a line, but he’s eyeing her like he really, genuinely remembers, and it sends a shiver down her… um. Spine. Let’s say spine.</p><p>But he’s got that confident smirk on again, and she’ll be damned if she feeds his ego. “You know what I look like when you <i>think</i> I’m satisfied.”</p><p>He scoffs, which… fair. She might actually have drawn blood when she bit him. “Oh, you were.”</p><p>“Maybe, maybe not.” She realizes a second too late that she’s giving him an opening.</p><p>“Oh, you wanna go again?”</p><p>And then realizes that she did it on purpose. Her eyes fall to his lips, vividly remembering the feeling of his mouth on hers at the party and—</p><p>“Jules? Where are you?” she hears Flynn call.</p><p>Get it together. He’s a dick.</p><p>She thinks. Honestly, she’s not really sure at this point.</p><p>Ideally, she would make some kind of confident, sexy exit, but all she can come up with is, “In your dreams.” Overused, but it gets the job done.</p><p>She slips past him, hoping she doesn’t come across too ridiculous, but then she hears him say, “We only make it to my dreams after we’re done in yours.” </p><p>Okay, so maybe he’s a confident player but… he’s just as inept at this as she is. She bites back a smile. “Not convinced that made any sense, but you do you.”</p><p>She crosses the backyard to Flynn, whose eyes narrow as she looks past Julie. Presumably Luke just left the alleyway too. Flynn crosses her arms, unimpressed. “<i>Again?</i>”</p><p>“No! Can we go?”</p><p>“Did he do something?” Her friend immediately looks ready to throw down, and Julie almost hugs her.</p><p>“No. I mean, he was kind of a dick, but only 60% this time.”</p><p>“So… still mostly a dick.”</p><p>“I’m just tired.”</p><p>Flynn sighs. “Okay, let’s go.”</p><p>And Julie doesn’t look back as they walk away.</p>
<hr/><p>She doesn’t really expect to see him again, so naturally she sees him the very next morning. She and Flynn go to get (employee discounted) breakfast sandwiches at the shop where Alex works, and as they stand in the packed corner waiting for their orders to come up, Luke sprints in and pushes his way through the crowd.</p><p>“Dude!”</p><p>Alex looks up from his frantic assembly line, confused. “Don’t you have work?”</p><p>By way of an answer, Luke holds up an inhaler.</p><p>Alex’s mouth drops open. “I was rushing this morning—”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Almost literally a life saver.” Alex reaches for it, then hesitates as he looks down at his gloved hands. Laughing, Luke reaches over the counter and drops the inhaler in the direction of Alex’s apron pocket. The pocket lies flat against the apron, so Julie thinks there’s no way the inhaler will go in, but apparently Luke is an apron expert, or just so damn confident that things like gravity end up working out for him. Alex grins as the inhaler lands in place. Then his eyes narrow. “Wait a minute, where did I leave it?”</p><p>Luke backs away immediately. “Gotta run, work.”</p><p>As the guitarist rushes for the door, Alex yells, “STOP GOING IN MY ROOM, YOU WEIRDO.”</p><p>Luke spins around, holding out his arms in a confident, unapologetic shrug. “But then how will I keep saving your life?”</p><p>Alex shakes his head, torn between exasperation and fondness. “You’re the worst.”</p><p>“I’m the best.”</p><p>“You’re the center of that Venn diagram, yes.”</p><p>Luke blows him a kiss and runs out. Chuckling, Alex returns to the sandwich in front of him.</p><p>Flynn rolls her eyes, then looks at Julie. Julie tries to wipe the smile off her face, but she’s not fast enough. “No, that is not charming. Do not be charmed by that. He has boundary issues!”</p><p>Right, of course.</p><p>That was definitely Julie’s takeaway as well.</p>
<hr/><p>With the memory of her FIDLAR success in her head, Julie feels fairly confident walking into her first performance class of the semester. She can do this. She’ll show Carrie, and she’ll honor her mother. She can do this she can do this she can do this</p><p>And then Professor Harrison turns to her, the question “do you want to start?” not even out of her mouth, and all Julie can feel is her classmates’ eyes and the lack of her mother’s, and guilt churns in her stomach, and she runs out of the room.</p><p>She takes refuge outside Ramo Hall, curling up behind a statue shaped vaguely like a penis.</p><p>It captures her mood.</p><p>She doesn’t know how long she sits there before a shadow falls over her face. She doesn’t look up, but she doesn’t have to. Flynn sits next to her and drapes an arm around her shoulder. </p><p>“No dice?” her friend asks softly.</p><p>“I thought—after last night…”</p><p>Flynn squeezes her shoulders. “There’s no rush.”</p><p>Julie angrily wipes the tears from her face. Fuck tears. She’s so fucking sick of crying. “There’s no way the department’s going to keep letting me get away with this.”</p><p>There’s silence—Flynn can’t say anything comforting because they both know it’s true.</p><p>Flynn gently nudges her foot. “I have an idea.”</p><p>“Is the idea that we leave the country and everything here just vanishes for a while? Because I like that idea.”</p><p>“Where do you want to go?”</p><p>“Scotland.”</p><p>“Where in Scotland?”</p><p>Flynn’s clearly expecting a light-hearted answer, but Julie rests her head on her friend’s shoulder and sighs. “My mom loved the Glasgow rock scene. She always said we would go after I graduate.”</p><p>She remembers a time six years ago when her mother sent her an enigmatic smile and said, like she was Dumbledore dispensing the most deliberately confusing wisdom she possibly could, “I learned the most important lesson of my life playing gigs in Glasgow. ‘Here we, here we, here we fuckin’ go.’”</p><p>Fourteen-year-old Julie had waited for an explanation, but her mother hadn’t given one. “I don’t get it.”</p><p>“We’ll visit one day. And then you will.”</p><p><i>Fuck it dog, life’s a risk</i> makes sense to Julie—she knew what lesson her mother was trying to impart as soon as she said it. “Here we, here we, here we fucking go” sits in Julie’s brain alongside a thousand other questions she’ll never get to ask her mom, mysteries she’ll apparently just have to tolerate for the rest of her life.</p><p>Flynn squeezes her shoulder again, and they sit in silence. Julie becomes aware of the sound of thousands of students walking the campus, passing between classes, living their lives like the world didn't end six months ago. She’s also acutely aware of how narrow the statue they’re leaning against is. She’s on display to anyone walking by, but she feels so alone right now. Alone and angry and guilty.</p><p>Flynn opens her mouth and pauses. The way she does before she suggests a plan that she knows Julie might not like. “It’s not Glasgow, but if you want to experience something a bit closer to home, I heard about an open mic tonight. I know a guy, I can get you on the list.”</p><p>“I just said that I can’t—”</p><p>“Can’t sing in class with Carrie and the others staring at you like you’re in some Gucci-sponsored vocal Thunderdome? Yeah, that’s probably the hardest environment to sing in. But an open mic night in front of a bunch of strangers you don’t know or care about? I think it could be like last night. And, you know the whole thing about getting back on the horse?” Julie sighs, unsure. Flynn captures her gaze. “You found something last night, Jules. I saw it on your face. And you were so happy. So can we just try it? I’ll be right there with you.”</p><p>Julie flashes back to the feeling in that garage. The rage, and the sense of rightness. Her voice screaming out of her throat and into a mic again. The feeling of her mother there by her side.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll try.”</p>
<hr/><p>And she thinks she can, until she sees the stage and the crowd. She wants to flee back to Flynn’s car, but her friend grabs her hand firmly and drags her to the green room. The stage manager unlocks the door and lets them in, and the familiarity of the environment hits her all at once. </p><p>She’s never been here. But she’s been in a thousand green rooms with her mom and every green room is, at its core, exactly the same. So while she’s never been here, she also grew up here. Just seeing the room, she knows she can’t sing “Wake Up.” Not without her mother here, fussing with her hair beforehand and cheering her on afterwards.</p><p>She backs away towards the door, shaking her head at Flynn. Her friend tries to grab for her hand. “Jules, baby steps. Just get on the stage. You don’t even have to sing.”</p><p>That is <i>not</i> a baby step. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Okay, just go stand in the wings. That’s all I’m asking. Try standing in the wings.” Flynn’s voice is urgent and desperate. Fuck. Flynn doesn’t know what else to do if this doesn’t work. Flynn, who always has an answer, doesn’t have another answer. Julie’s heart plummets.</p><p>“I did try! I’m here. Maybe this was my baby step for the week, but this is all I’ve got. Going out there? I just can’t.”</p><p>Then she hears the last thing she expects: Luke’s voice. “Not going to sing us an aria, Princess?”</p><p>There’s no way it’s actually him. What are the fucking odds that she goes four months seeing him once, and then within twenty-four hours sees him three times? But she turns around and there he is, wearing another fucking cutoff shirt and a cocky grin. His bandmates hover nervously behind him.</p><p>“How are you always around?” she asks.</p><p>“Have we met some extra times I don’t know about? Was it in your dreams?” He gives her a private smile, and she’s immediately brought back to the alleyway. </p><p>“More like my nightmares,” she counters.</p><p>“Your nightmares sound very sexy. I’m jealous.” But he doesn’t say it with the confidence or smirk she’s expecting. Instead, there’s an awkward, hesitant edge to it, like he’s trying out teasing for the first time and isn’t sure how it works.</p><p>Flynn scoffs. “Really, dude?”</p><p>He’s studying Julie like a doctor trying to figure out where it hurts, and suddenly she gets it. It’s… sweet. Misguided, but kind of sweet. “No, Flynn, he’s trying to piss me off.”</p><p>“… Yeah, that’s why I’m angry at him.” Her friend positively <i>exudes</i> exasperation. </p><p>“No, he’s doing a thing. And it’s not going to work.”</p><p>Luke shakes his head, the same confidence he had when he dropped the inhaler into a closed apron pocket. Like he’s used to bending the world to his will. “Of course it will. Just tell me what you’re gonna sing, I’ll tell you that you’re going to be terrible at it, and then you can go prove me wrong.”</p><p>She can’t help but laugh—how can someone who was such a dick when they first met now be so incapable of riling her up on purpose? “Except now you’ve given away your evil plan.” She tries to capture that feeling of defiance that got her to take the mic at the house party, but it’s like water slipping through her fingers. “Spite was a one-time thing, I think. I can’t go out there.”</p><p>The stage manager’s voice sounds from behind her. “Julie Molina, you’re on in one minute.”</p><p>Julie opens her mouth to apologize for bailing, but Luke steps closer, grabbing her attention with that now familiar waft of vanilla.</p><p>“Would it help if you weren’t alone up there? You can, like, pick an angry ballad with a guitar and yell it at me on stage.”</p><p>He’s so earnest, so willing to throw himself on the grenade of her anger if it’ll get her on stage, and that’s <i>different</i>. Everyone else has been trying to inspire her onto stage, giving her encouragement and praise and love and waxing poetic about her mother, and none of it has worked. All it does is remind her that her music and her mom are inextricably tied, and one can’t exist without the other. But here Luke is offering himself as a sacrificial lamb, suggesting that she tap into an entirely different set of emotions. For a split second, she has the bizarre urge to hug him.</p><p>And yet: “I don’t even know what I would sing. I was supposed to do… But I can’t.”</p><p>She tries to break their eye contact, but he ducks to maintain it. “Maybe you just need to perform something that lets you get out of your head a bit, you know? Something that makes you feel…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Hot-blooded?” Huh. Pretty much the last song she would have expected to sing before she sang “Wake Up.” But then, so was “By Myself.”</p><p>“Not exactly my kind of music. And it requires a whole band.”</p><p>“I got a whole band.” He glances back at his bandmates to check, and they give him a thumbs up without hesitation. It makes her smile, because it’s precisely what Flynn would do. “And maybe not being your kind of music is good. You’re not trying to wow the crowd with some complex vocals. You’re just performing a badass song. And if you get out there and decide you can’t sing, then you can just dance and we’ll sing. No pressure. I’m always down to play Foreigner covers.”</p><p>She wants to hug herself. What if she can’t do this? What if she sprints off stage? Running away crying twice in one day is going to do a number on her already fragile self-esteem.</p><p>A smirk comes onto his face, but this time, it’s like she can see the cracks around the façade. He’s performing smugness. “Or, you know, we’ll all go out there and sing ‘Der Hölle Rache.’ Reggie’s been working on his coloratura.”</p><p>“You have no idea what that is, do you?”</p><p>“Not even remotely. So show us how it’s done.” He’s giving her that same awed look from the alleyway, like he’s already convinced she’s going to do something to deserve his admiration.</p><p>She can’t point to any one specific thing that makes her agree to do it. Maybe it’s because “Hot Blooded” isn’t something she would have ever wanted to sing in front of her mother (no matter how cool her mom was). Maybe it’s because she’s not alone on the stage, so she knows the guys can distract her or even carry her if need be. But maybe it’s also because of the look on Luke’s face, the same look he had with the inhaler, the same look he had when he barged in here. He’ll be at her side, and with sheer stubborn confidence, he will make her perform. And he’s so convinced of it that she can’t help but be a little convinced as well.</p><p>She tries to delay the inevitable, but eventually a smile spreads across his face, like he knows before she does that she’s going to agree. She smiles reluctantly back.</p><p>“Fuck it. Let’s do this.”</p>
<hr/><p>At the risk of stating the obvious, performing “Hot Blooded” with Luke is heated. And she knows that some of that is because he’s exaggerating the smirking looks he gives her for the sake of the performance. But there are moments when he’s just looking at <i>her</i>, moments when she knows most of the crowd can’t see his face, and he still looks…</p><p>… well, hot-blooded.</p><p>And now she feels hot-blooded.</p><p>After the first chorus, she almost forgets that she’s on stage and just focuses on him and the lyrics. Which is great for keeping her present and focused on the performance. But now, standing in the green room afterwards, she feels very keyed-up, like all of that was foreplay and now she’s ready for the follow-up.</p><p>She almost picks up her backpack the instant she reaches the green room, but… the guys have to pack up their instruments. She doesn’t have anything to pack up. And she’s kind of curious what Luke will do if she lingers. Does he feel as keyed-up as she does?</p><p>At first, he’s not really looking at her, focused on putting away his guitar, so she pretends to be busy on her phone. But then she hears a question that can only be aimed at her. “Okay, so obviously I pegged you wrong with opera. What kinda stuff do you do?”</p><p>She drops her phone in her bag and perches on the makeup counter, settling in to talk to him. “The stuff I used to write was, like, Macy Gray, but with Alicia Keys’ vocals?”</p><p>He looks off toward his right ear for a second, like he’s playing the combination of sounds in his head. Alex and Reggie flash her quick waves and head for the door. Luke pulls his gaze from his ear and nods appreciatively. “Fuck yeah.”</p><p>The door clicks shut behind his bandmates. Luke raises an eyebrow and smiles to himself. Then he sets down his guitar. Like them being alone in here changes things. Her breath hitches.</p><p>“So, I was right.”</p><p>“Despite all evidence to the contrary?” she teases.</p><p>But he doesn’t let her sidetrack him. “You <i>are</i> incredible. And you <i>are</i> a musician.” He doesn’t say it like it’s a compliment. He says it like it’s a fact, like he’s telling her that gravity exists.</p><p>She wants to disagree because she’s spent six months disagreeing, but she just sang and she doesn’t feel panicked afterwards. Her body is tense and wired, but that’s because of the guy in front of her, not because of performing. She sang… and she feels okay. So she nods. “I am.” But will she ever be able to do it again? “I just wish I felt like one.”</p><p>“It’s a process.” He watches her hesitantly. “You should still be proud. Because you absolutely killed it out there.”</p><p>“I did, didn’t I?” She eyes him for a second. She’s never thought of herself as sexy or seductive, but all of the sudden she has the urge to try. Because the way he looked at her out on that stage… she really wants to see if he’ll look at her like that when there’s no audience.</p><p>She leans purposefully back on her arms. Instead of curving her spine comfortably and collapsing her chest, she keeps her back completely straight. She doesn’t even get a second to wonder if it’s effective, because his eyes immediately slip to her breasts, and he drags them up to her face reluctantly. He looks guilty, like he thinks she didn’t do it on purpose, so she smirks and bites her lip, hoping it comes across as coy.</p><p>His mouth drops open a little and he grins. Then he slides over to her, a bounce in his step.</p><p>She almost laughs at him. Is the bounce an automatic response? Like he feels the need to swagger if there’s a chance he might get laid?</p><p>He rests his hands on either side of her legs, and her whole body tingles at his proximity.</p><p>“How are you planning to celebrate?” he asks, his voice husky.</p><p>“Not sure. Any ideas?” She tries for a coy lilt, but she’s really not sure that it comes out the way she intends it to.</p><p>Regardless of whether she succeeds, he leans in and kisses her shoulder, then her neck, immediately finding her pulse point again. She rolls her head to the side cause… god, she almost feels like she could come from his mouth on her neck alone. Why is her neck so embarrassingly sensitive?</p><p>He whispers in her ear, “The other day, you seemed disappointed that I wasn’t on my knees. Would you like me to be?”</p><p>Uh.</p><p>Never mind, forget her neck.</p><p>That. Please. Immediately.</p><p>“Probably for the best,” she thinks she says. “Otherwise, I’ll think you have no follow through.”</p><p>He stares at her for a moment, and his eyes are full of heat and delight and awe. She doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at her like that—like she’s talented and sexy and accomplished, instead of terrified and awkward and hiding from herself. He must be seeing things that aren’t there to look at her that way, or maybe guys like him can look at anyone like that. No matter the reason, it’s hard not to believe it when his eyes are on hers.</p><p>So, yeah, he eats her out on the makeup counter and it’s pretty fucking spectacular, but that look he gives her is probably her favorite part.</p>
<hr/><p>When she finds Flynn at the back entrance, her friend looks unimpressed. “I was all excited to congratulate you, but then you took forever.”</p><p>“Just talking to the guys.”</p><p>“Yeahhh, you know Alex and Reggie came out, like, ten minutes before you and Luke.”</p><p>Julie refuses to meet her friend's gaze as they step outside. Luke’s bouncing down the alley with his friends like he’s king of the world which…</p><p>Okay, normally she doesn’t appreciate arrogance, but the dude really knows how to use his tongue, so she’ll allow. Just this once.</p><p>He glances back and a smile spreads across her face without her permission. An answering smile appears on his face. Not an arrogant smile, just a soft thing, and it makes her stomach flutter.</p><p>Flynn groans at her side. “Please don’t tell me you had sex with him in the green room. That can’t be sanitary.”</p><p>Julie isn’t about to lie to Flynn, so she just giggles.</p><p>Her friend sighs loudly as she leads the way to the tiny parking lot behind the venue where her car is. “Was he decent?” Julie raises an eyebrow. “<i>As a person.</i> … also sexually.”</p><p>“As a person, surprisingly yeah. I’m starting to think he’s just terrible at human interaction.”</p><p>“Alex says he’s a disaster, but a solid guy. Maybe Alex is just making excuses for a shitty friend, but he’s pretty good at calling people out when they need to be.” Julie tries to stamp down the hope rising in her because… look, he’s really cute and she wants the sweet guy who hyped her up in the green room to be who he really is. Even if he lives in a totally different world from her and they never see each other again, she’s happier living in a world where that kind of guy exists.</p><p>Flynn opens the door to her car. “So. How was he?” She waggles her eyebrows.</p><p>Julie laughs and bites her lip. She glances back over her shoulder, as if Luke might be lingering in the alley. “Like… throw-away-your-vibrator good,” she admits.</p><p>Flynn points a firm finger at her. “Do not throw away your vibrator.”</p><p>“I would never!”</p><p>“Vibrators are forever. Guys can be flighty.”</p><p>“I’m not throwing away my vibrator. I’m just giving you my review.”</p><p>Flynn studies her face and sighs. “They’re having another garage party next week. Do you want to go?”</p><p>Julie could play it cool, but she flashes back to the soft earnestness on his face as he offered to let her yell an angry ballad at him, and…</p><p>“Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was a lot more re-treading of existing scenes than I wanted, but once we get past chapter three, chapters will be primarily new scenes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Strictly Business, Nothing More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Jumpstarted" by Jukebox the Ghost</p><p>For reference:<br/>• The <i>Fleabag</i> <a href="https://pyxis.nymag.com/v1/imgs/35d/804/4f26f6dba4114e514752b410c0d8bc6159-31-fleabag-jumpsuit.2x.rhorizontal.w700.jpg">jumpsuit</a><br/>• 90° F=32° C (sorry my home country uses nonsense temperatures)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After seeing Luke three times in twenty-four hours, Julie is admittedly a bit disappointed with the next few days of zero Luke.</p><p>She’ll see him at the garage party. That’s fine. Don’t get too thirsty.</p><p>(Too late. She’s already thirsty. The green room was all it took to remind her just how good it was in the bathroom and she wants that again please.)</p><p>But not seeing him is good because she needs to think, and she has trouble thinking when she’s around him. Or if she is thinking, she’s thinking with the wrong parts of her. The butterflies in her stomach and her pussy, not her brain.</p><p>The attention he pays her doesn’t make any sense. He’s this hot, confident, independent dude in a rock band who seems to have his whole life in hand. Okay, maybe he can be a bit of a disaster when it comes to human conversation, but he seems to have his shit together otherwise. She’s an absolute disaster who’s very aware of the music school’s dwindling patience with her. No job, no ability to sing on her own, no plan for the future if she can’t get herself back on stage, no other potential careers, possibly no degree.</p><p>But he keeps looking at her like she’s amazing, and she doesn’t get it. At all.</p><p>She gets the first piece of the puzzle that is Luke’s interest in her from an unexpected source.</p><p>In desperate need of caffeine in an hour gap between classes, Julie heads to the nearby Coffee Bean &amp; Tea Leaf in the film school. She likes hanging out in the main courtyard of the film school—it looks vaguely like an Italian villa, and she wants to sit near the fountain with her thoughts and feel fancy. Just some well-needed time all by herself with no reminders of Sunset Curve and oh that’s Reggie.</p><p>He beams. “Hey!”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>“What can I get you?”</p><p>“Small cappuccino?”</p><p>He taps something into the register before adding her order, and she sees “employee -10%” flash on the screen. The price comes up lower than it normally does. She smiles at him. “Thanks.”</p><p>Someone who looks like a manager passes behind him, so he just winks.</p><p>After she pays for her drink, he grabs a large cup and heads to the coffee machine.</p><p>“Oh, I said small—”</p><p>“Whoops, can’t put the cup back now,” he shrugs unrepentantly. He’s silent for a moment as he fills the portafilter with ground coffee, then he shoots her a friendly grin. “It’s nice to see you. I didn’t get to praise you after… well, either time we played together, but you’re ridiculously talented.”</p><p>“Thanks. So are you.”</p><p>He waves a casual hand at her. “Shucks.” He locks the portafilter into the coffee machine. Without taking his eyes off the machine, he suggests smoothly, “We’re having another garage party on Saturday. You should come and perform with us again. Maybe even do multiple songs?”</p><p>“Maybe.” With a noncommittal nod, she tries to steer them away from the topic of performing.</p><p>It doesn’t work as intended. “Did he Luke it again?”</p><p>“Luke it?”</p><p>“We’re trying to turn his name into a verb.”</p><p>“What does Luking it mean?”</p><p>Reggie freezes and his eyes go wide, as if his brain has just caught up with his mouth. “Uhhh….” She raises an eyebrow. “No, it’s nothing. Just that he can have a bit of a one-track mind sometimes. Kind of like a crow, but instead of shiny objects, he chases after all things musical.”</p><p>He starts frothing the milk. The high-pitched whine fills the film school lobby, stopping them from talking, which gives her a chance to think. “Music-obsessed crow” is a variant of what Alex told her, but this time the phrasing strikes her. Is that why Luke pays attention to her? Because of her voice? On the one hand, she loves her voice, and she’s spent her whole life getting complimented on it and deriving her value from it. (Yes yes, Dr. Turner, she understands that’s “not healthy.” One crisis at a time please.) On the other hand, she wants to be liked for <i>her</i>, not just for one part of her that she was born with and had no say over.</p><p>The frother wand goes silent. “He didn’t Luke it,” she assures Reggie. There’s something about the bassist’s gentle face and relatively calm energy that makes her feel comfortable opening up. He probably already knows, anyways. He was in the green room before “Hot Blooded.” “Singing’s just a bit difficult for me right now.”</p><p>He doesn’t ask why, and she’s eternally grateful for that. “Do you play an instrument?”</p><p>“Piano. Also a bit difficult.”</p><p>“You did well with us on stage?” he asks, studying her face as he pours her drink.</p><p>“That’s true.” It had helped, having other people there. Like Luke had guessed, it kept her out of her head, focused on something other than the meta-narrative of her performance and what it meant and how her mom fit in.</p><p>Reggie passes her her cappuccino and smiles. “You’re always welcome to play with us.”</p><p>Ugh, more people accommodating her. “You don’t have to—”</p><p>But he shakes his head, firm. “It’s not us doing you a favor. It’s you doing us a favor. You elevate us.”</p><p>And she can’t not smile at that.</p><p>He grins encouragingly, then switches into customer service mode, gesturing to the milk and sugar stand. “If you want napkins, sugar, or cream, they’re on the right.”</p><p>“People put cream in cappuccinos?”</p><p>Reggie leans forward, horrified as he whispers, “Someone once had me put caramel syrup <i>and</i> mint syrup in a flat white. I have seen some shit here.”</p><p>Julie giggles as she waves goodbye. Luke still really confuses her, but she can’t help thinking that it speaks well for him that his friends are kind of extremely delightful.</p>
<hr/><p>She doesn’t walk past the gelato shop. To such an extent that she goes out of her way to not go by the shop, even though it’s actually the most direct route between her apartment and some of her classes.</p><p>It’s not that she’s worried that Luke will see her and think she’s following him. It’s the University Village—thousands of USC students pass through it every day on their way to and from class. But <i>she</i> knows that walking by the gelato shop isn’t a neutral act anymore. Because she has this giddy urge in her stomach to try to run into him, even if she isn’t sure why.</p><p>(She doesn’t tell Flynn. She knows Flynn would shake her head and say, “You know why.”)</p><p>But it’s been six days of not seeing him and then she has a truly awful performance practice class. She stays in her seat this time and somehow that’s worse, because now in addition to all the guilt churning through her, she has the eyes of the entire class constantly flickering to her. She feels the weight of their judgment and pity crawling under her skin like bugs, and she wants to hide under a pile of blankets even though it’s currently 90 degrees outside.</p><p>So she takes the most direct route through the UV, because she plans to go straight home and cry. But as she approaches the gelato shop, she slows down. He might not even be working. Why is she getting her hopes up?</p><p>But of course he is.</p><p>She had kind of hoped that her memory was exaggerating how cute he is, but nope. He <i>is</i> that cute. How dangerous for her health.</p><p>He’s running a metal spatula through a tub of gelato and talking to... Oh, that’s Reggie and Alex. His shoulders are slumped, his whole face moping, and the boys look like they’re trying to comfort him. She doesn’t even get a chance to wonder what they’re talking about before a woman in a suit marches up to them, presumably a manager. Alex and Reggie quickly sprint out the door of the shop and head north away from Julie.</p><p>The manager looks terrifying. She has one of those vicious polite smiles that some people wield like deadly weapons. Whatever she’s saying is making Luke’s face go still, like he’s shutting off all emotions in his body.</p><p>Everything in Julie switches into protection mode. Surely managers are less likely to yell at their employees if a customer is there?</p><p>She pushes through the door.</p><p>She gets hit with an aggressive wave of fake vanilla, as if a candy shop just punched her in the nose. She should clock the significance of it, but she’s a girl on a mission and she’s focused on the condescension that is positively radiating off of the manager.</p><p>“I think it should have been pretty obvious that that doesn’t look very appealing,” the manager is saying. “I’ll show you smoothing.” She walks around the counter, and Luke’s eyes land on Julie. His face falls, like her walking in is the last thing he wanted on this shift.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>So he doesn’t want to see her.</p><p>She can’t literally run out of the shop, can she?</p><p>No, hold your ground, damn it. You’re allowed to want to buy gelato. That’s a perfectly normal thing to do. It doesn’t have anything to do with him. Theoretically, you didn’t even know he works here.</p><p>The manager takes the spatula and begins demonstrating something in the tub. Luke watches with horrified fascination. “Now, doesn’t that look much better?” she asks, like she’s trying to stab him with a smile. “Makes a lot more sense, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Luke looks like he may start to yell, so Julie clears her throat loudly. “Could I order something?”</p><p>The manager jumps. “Of course, dear.” But she eyes Luke like she’s planning to judge how he takes her order.</p><p>Doing the coldest smile she can, Julie crosses her arms. <i>I want to</i> not <i>speak to the manager</i>. “Sorry, am <i>I</i> being evaluated?”</p><p>“Oh no, of course. I’ll be in the back.” The manager shoots Luke a nasty look. “You’ll smooth them all properly?”</p><p>“Course.”</p><p>As soon as she disappears around the corner, he exhales and almost collapses in on himself, but he shoots Julie a grateful look. Even if he doesn’t want her here, apparently defending him from his manager has gotten her some brownie points.</p><p>Seeing him at work is weirdly hypnotic. As he talks about the shop and health codes, as he easily makes Carrie’s milkshake without even looking at any of the ingredients or equipment he’s using, she’s struck by how similar his confidence behind the counter is to his confidence on stage. He knows this environment like he knows his guitar, and he makes it his. He bounces around his work space the same way he bounces around the stage—not that insufferable bouncy walk, but almost like he’s teleporting, like he’s not going to waste time on the journey when he knows the destination.</p><p>When Carrie comes in using her laptop as an umbrella, Julie’s struck by the reminder that for people like Luke, this is what USC is and this is who she is. And it doesn’t feel wrong—she’s never thought about how often a soft serve machine needed to be cleaned, and now that feels ignorant. (She also may never order soft serve from any place ever again.) She never realized that there were complex politics to which straw a server gave you, or that “I’m sorry for the inconvenience” could mean “go fuck yourself.” But Luke knows it all intimately. He’s this self-assured grown up and she’s never felt so small or naïve by comparison as she peers into his world from behind the glass of an ice cream counter.</p><p>It doesn’t help that, when Carrie brings up Julie crying in class (which, seriously? Teasing her <i>in class</i> isn’t enough? Carrie has to tour around campus doing it everywhere she goes?), Luke shoots Julie a sympathetic smile. Can she not have one conversation with this guy where “I can’t perform and I’m a wreck right now” isn’t playing in the background?</p><p>But he silences Carrie with the blender, and then gives her the wrong straw, and all of this is strong evidence that he’s not a dick and may actually be really sweet. Which is a problem because he also maybe thinks she’s a fragile disaster with a great voice who he just likes to hook up with sometimes.</p><p>As he’s scooping her gelato, he doesn’t look at her as he says, “We’ve, uh, got another garage party on Saturday.” He’s clearly trying for casual, but she can remember the authentically casual way that Reggie said the same thing, and Luke’s doesn’t compare. Butterflies flutter in her stomach as she realizes that he wants her there. But for what? For her voice? For sex? Is this a booty call? A band call? The guitarist equivalent of “you up?”</p><p>“Yeah, Flynn mentioned.” Did Reggie not tell Luke that he invited her? Does that mean something?</p><p>“You should show.” Again with the forced casual.</p><p>“I should?”</p><p>He finally raises his eyes to hers, and his face takes on that look of awe again. “Mic’s always open for you.”</p><p>Oh, okay. So it’s about her voice.</p><p>As she grabs her gelato, she asks, “How much do I owe you?”</p><p>He shoots her a wicked grin. “Nothing, Carrie paid for it.”</p><p>She’s probably not supposed to find that sweet, but she’s going to. “You really <i>are</i> diabolical.”</p><p>“Yeah, could definitely get fired for that, so don’t tell anyone.” He rinses the metal spatula off at the sink and returns to the counter.</p><p>There’s something about the practiced way he does it that strikes her. He’s spent hundreds, possibly thousands, of hours here being badgered by assholes in suits and USC gear, instead of getting to hole up in his studio and perfect his art. Meanwhile, she could do exactly that and she doesn’t. The guilt churns in her stomach again.</p><p>“I’m sorry you have to work here.”</p><p>“Eh, it’s not the worst job I’ve ever had. Second worst. But not the worst.” He grabs a tub of gelato and begins to… what was the term? Smooth it? What a waste of his time.</p><p>“Still. You deserve better.”</p><p>Like he’s not fussed, he shrugs, and she wonders how bad his worst job was that this didn’t make the cut. “Pretty sure everyone deserves better than Listeria HQ.”</p><p>He’s spent a lot of time complimenting her and hyping her up. She wants to return the favor. “Just sucks. You’re this amazing musician and you’re stuck at this job that’s beneath you.”</p><p>From the way he freezes, she immediately knows that she’s said something wrong. His voice goes cold, the way it did way back at the house party. “I mean, it’s a job. No one’s too good for a job.”</p><p>Wait, no, that’s not what she meant. “No, I get that. But you’re too good for this place, you know?”</p><p>He looks even less impressed. “As opposed to people who <i>aren’t</i> too good to work here?”</p><p>Oh no, they were having such a good conversation. There was flirting and banter. How is this spinning so out of her control? “I didn’t mean that. I just… the job’s demeaning, right?”</p><p>A sneer stumbles onto his face. “I don’t feel demeaned. I work because I can’t live off Daddy’s money.”</p><p>She winces, picturing her father’s gentle smile as he asks, “Do you need any more money in your account for this month?” Yeah, she’s not rolling up to college in a shiny new BMW, wearing designer clothes, or using a laptop to protect her hair, but her dad was very firm about the fact that she didn’t need to work this year. She just needed to heal and to study. And she’s grateful for that, but she’s never been struck so completely by how privileged it makes her.</p><p>“That’s—this isn’t coming out right.”</p><p>But she’s clearly gone too far. He shoves away from the counter. “Well, been lovely, Princess, but I’ve got a lot of gelato to demean myself with, so I’ll see you when I see you.”</p><p>He turns his back to her and rinses off the spatula at the sink. She opens her mouth, trying to figure out something to say. But what? In the past, when he called her Princess, it was either unfair or teasing. This time, she really deserves the nickname. The only valid response is to retreat from the shop.</p>
<hr/><p>“I literally never thought I would say this, but I agree with Luke.”</p><p>Flynn sits next to her on Julie’s bed. It’s taken Julie two days of wallowing in her shame to confess what happened at the shop, but it all came tumbling out when Flynn asked why she wasn’t getting ready for the garage party.</p><p>Julie covers her face with a pillow. “It came out wrong. I didn’t mean it.”</p><p>“What did you mean?”</p><p>“I meant…” Fuck. “I did mean it, didn’t I? God, I suck.”</p><p>Flynn squeezes her arm gently. “Embrace the shame and learn from it.”</p><p>“Ugh, I can’t believe a white boy schooled me on privilege.”</p><p>“Privilege is a complex, multifaceted clusterfuck. My sociology prof taught me that.”</p><p>Julie finally peeks out from under her pillow. “Is that a direct quote?”</p><p>“The way she said it was boring. I made it pithy.” Her friend watches her for a moment, then nudges her arm. “Go to the party tonight and apologize.”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t approve of Luke.”</p><p>“I don’t know what to think of Luke. Maybe he’s a cocky asshole? Maybe he’s not? Maybe he’s a player? Maybe he’s not? I don’t think a confusing person’s going to be good for you right now. But that’s not the point. I’m not saying you should fuck him. I’m saying you should apologize.”</p><p>The problem is that as soon as Flynn says “fuck him” and “apologize,” Julie remembers vividly how Luke apologized in the green room. She would really really like to return the favor. And her friend immediately clocks the look on her face. “No, I meant you should apologize with your mouth.” Julie raises an eyebrow. “With your words! Promise me you will say ‘sorry’ with words.”</p><p>Julie pulls herself off of the bed and goes to her closet. After rifling through her clothes for a moment, she pulls out her favorite outfit. “Okay, I’ll wear this. Jumpsuit, not conducive to shenanigans.”</p><p>Flynn shakes her head. “I think that might actually be the jumpsuit from <i>Fleabag</i>.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So it’s not sending the platonic vibes you’re claiming it does.”</p><p>“Flynn.”</p><p>Her friend sighs, then rolls her eyes fondly. “And you’re going to look bomb in it and let’s get you ready.”</p>
<hr/><p>It feels like some sort of curse of the universe that Flynn and Julie arrive when Sunset Curve is playing “Can’t You See.” Julie’s always loved the song and, before she saw FIDLAR perform it live, she thought it was kinda hot. In her mind, it was performed by sweaty musicians who smirked into the mic and smoothly swept their damp hair back off of their faces. She doesn’t normally find sweat attractive, but on a musician, drenched in how much they’re laying it all out on the stage, she can’t not find it appealing. Like the sweat directly correlates to the amount of effort and passion they’re putting into their performance. So her mental image centered on a sweaty guy who sang close into the mic like he wanted to fuck it, who hugged his guitar right against his hips while he played in a way that made it virtually impossible not to think about where else he puts his hands.</p><p>FIDLAR was not like that at all and she was very disappointed.</p><p>Naturally, when Sunset Curve performs it, Luke is the living embodiment of that fantasy because this guy has been designed to torture her.</p><p>When she arrives, Luke is stepping off to the side, leaving Alex in clear view of the crowd. Luke and Reggie are exchanging a smug look and glancing at a long-haired guy with a skateboard. Aww, they’re wingmaning the drummer.</p><p>The guys exchange a laugh at a lyric, and once again Julie’s struck by how Sunset Curve is this loving and supportive family unit. It’s completely different from how she and her mom performed together, but part of her aches for it. She misses being included in that bond that can only be forged on stage, where you quickly become so in tune that you can almost read each other’s minds.</p><p>It’s not until Luke starts singing the chorus that the second piece of the “why has Luke been paying attention to me” puzzle clicks into place. He’s performing the song exactly the way she always thought it should be performed, sweeping his hair back, smirking, rolling his hips, and she’s suddenly just overwhelmed by how <i>cool</i> he is.</p><p>Also hot.</p><p>He’s confident and unapologetic in a way she’s never been, even before her mom died. He knows who he is, knows he belongs up here, knows this is what he was meant to do… and the crowd feels that too. They’re lapping it up, cheering and whistling. She feels eerily like she’s fallen back into high school, and the quarterback is strutting down the hall in a letterman jacket. (She never cared about football in high school, but she definitely had a weakness for the jacket.) She’s just the giddy girl with a crush leaning against her locker hoping the cool boy looks her way.</p><p>And then Luke looks out in the crowd and winks at another girl. The exact same wink that he sent Julie last week.</p><p>Suddenly, it all makes sense. She caught his attention with her voice, and now she’s one of his many groupies.</p><p>As he steps out for his guitar solo, biting his lip and totally blissed out as his fingers dance over the strings, the sheer coolness of him in his element just confirms it for her.</p><p>Why would a guy like that be interested in her?</p><p>It’s like Alex and Reggie said. He only cares about music, not the people behind them. She’s a good voice. That’s all she is.</p><p>Okay, that’s fine.</p><p>Really, she’s cool with that.</p><p>It’s a hell semester and a hot guy wants to hook up with her. A hot guy who shreds on guitar. What more could she want?</p><p>Wait, what was it Flynn said?</p><p>Apologize, and not with sex.</p><p>Okay, so apologize first. … and then definitely sex.</p><p>As Luke starts singing the chorus again, Julie’s fingertips itch, and she tries to figure out why. There’s no piano in this part of the song. Why would—</p><p>Oh. But there will be during the bridge. She eyes the piano in the garage. She hasn't seen the guys play it, so she doesn’t assume any of them claim it as their main instrument, but she has a hard time picturing Luke leaving an instrument untuned. And…</p><p>She really likes the piano riff in this song.</p><p>Hey, both Reggie and Luke said the mic was open, right?</p><p>Without letting herself overthink it, she charges up to the garage. The guilt churns in her gut, but she shoves it to the side. This is an apology. This is not for her. This is for him.</p><p>Luke’s eyes bug as he watches her run up, but he doesn’t fumble his performance at all. <strike>So much for the <i>Fleabag</i> jumpsuit.</strike> (Not the point of this exercise!)</p><p>She slides into the piano bench just in time and starts to play.</p><p>With her eyes on the keys, she tries not to let any thoughts come into her head other than where her fingers are meant to be going. But when Luke’s guitar joins in, she can see him approaching in her peripheral vision. The two instruments play off of each other, like they’re dancing, and there’s something so intimate about the blending of their two sounds. They’ve sung together, but they’ve never played together and it feels so right.</p><p>She glances up at him. She can’t read his expression, but his eyes are dark. She flashes him a smile that she hopes reads as apologetic.</p><p>He nods and bounces back to the mic. As he sways in place, her eyes drift to the way the strap of his guitar falls in the gap between his shoulder blades. She feels a strong urge to get up and join him at the mic, to rest her hand on the strap.</p><p>
  <i>Definitely do not do that, Molina.</i>
</p><p>He spins his guitar behind his back, and she’s once again struck by his coolness. Alex and Reggie laugh—she gets the sense that this is some showoff move he does that they’re exasperated with, and a week ago she would probably be right there with them. But not now.</p><p>As he swings the guitar back into his hands, Alex and Reggie look to her and nod. She joins them for the “ohs.”</p><p>When he finishes singing, Luke slides over to Reggie. The guys grin at each other and rock out together, like they’re having a friendly duel. Luke doesn’t even glance her way.</p><p>The song ends and, for a second, she wonders if he’ll even acknowledge her presence. Surely the crowd is a bit confused by her appearance.</p><p>Actually, they look pretty drunk. They probably haven’t noticed anything.</p><p>But Luke leans into his bassist’s mic and yells, “Let's hear it for Julie Molina on the keys!” … did she tell him her last name? She doesn’t remember telling him her last name.</p><p>When he steps back from the mic, he still doesn’t look at her. Did she fuck up that badly? She slips off the bench and starts towards him, but the guys immediately turn away.</p><p>She’d feel rejected, but Reggie is gesturing at the guy with the skateboard and Luke is tugging a red-faced Alex forward. Okay, let them wingman Alex. She can apologize to Luke later.</p>
<hr/><p>She and Flynn kill an hour at the fringes of the party, with Flynn rolling her eyes about 60% of the time and muttering, “Just go talk to him.”</p><p>But he’s not looking at her. Instead, he’s talking to a bunch of different people, lingering in particular with the girl he winked at. He’s laughing and giving the girl this warm smile that—you know what? It doesn’t matter. Julie’s not jealous. She’s here to apologize, and maybe if he’s interested, she’ll blow him. But she is <i>not</i> jealous and she does <i>not</i> have a crush.</p><p>Flynn watches him through narrowed eyes. “Please try not to get attached. This is not the year to fall for some fuckboy.”</p><p>“I’m not attached!” Flynn looks dubious. “I’m not! I’m apologetic.” She continues to look dubious. “Okay, and slightly horny. But I am not attached.”</p><p>Her friend sighs. “Just don’t kiss him. That’s no-strings-attached sex rule #1. Kissing leads to attachment. Not kissing keeps some distance.”</p><p>Not to brag, but Julie has read a lot of romance novels and she’s not convinced. “… does that ever actually work?”</p><p>“Are you doing anything else to protect this?” Flynn taps her finger over Julie’s heart. Julie sighs, but can’t disagree.</p><p>When Luke finally peels off from the crowd, he heads toward the alleyway behind the garage, and she wonders for a second if it’s intentional. If it’s for her, or if this is just where he hooks up with people after gigs, or if he’s just hiding. But then he glances back at her and nods, a clear invitation.</p><p>Her heart skips a beat.</p><p>
  <i>I’m not attached, I’m not attached, I’m not attached…</i>
</p><p>All she hears is a final sigh from Flynn before Julie follow after him. As she slips into the gap, she sees he’s leaned against the garage, almost in the same place as last week.</p><p>Might as well address the elephant in the room. “You’ve got a lot of admirers out there.”</p><p>He laughs, like he’s embarrassed she saw all that. “Do I?”</p><p>She almost wants to mention it, to bring it out in the open, but now that she’s this close to him, she can see the deep circles under his eyes and the exhaustion on his face. She’s reminded of his defeated posture at the gelato shop before the manager came over. “Are you okay?”</p><p>He shrugs it off. “Been a week.”</p><p>Guilt clenches her stomach. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Not your fault.”</p><p>He has that wistful look on his face again, so she doesn’t think she was the main problem with his week—why would she be? He barely knows her—but she can’t imagine she helped. “I said some pretty shit things and you were right to call me out.”</p><p>A smile cracks through the weariness on his face. “Are you thanking me for calling you out?”</p><p>“Helping me check my privilege. Unlike you, I’m invested in my personal growth.” She smiles nervously at him, and she feels a small kick of joy when he smiles back.</p><p>“Interesting apology tactic where you insult me.”</p><p>“I’ve got to keep your head from getting too big.” She grins, then realizes she hasn’t actually done the part of the apology where she demonstrates that she knows what she did wrong. “What I meant to say was, I wish you were getting paid obscene amounts of money to do the thing you love that you’re so amazing at instead of getting paid not enough money to be treated like shit over something you don’t care about.”</p><p>He shrugs, but not like he means it. “I knew you meant that.”</p><p>“But I didn’t say that and instead I said elitist bullshit that I regret.”</p><p>There’s an awkward pause, and he swings a hand at the garage. “You think I’m amazing at that?” His voice is surprisingly shy, and she realizes all at once that, even though he seems like this confident king of the world when he’s got a guitar in his hands, he’s an artist at heart and sometimes he needs to hear that the things he puts his soul into are valued by other people.</p><p>“You’re really incredible.” She realizes that the singular in the “you” isn’t clear. “All of you, but… you’re my favorite.”</p><p>“Thanks.” He looks at her with awe again, like he really cares about her opinion. Presumably because she’s a musician and he values her opinion as a fellow artist. Don’t read into it.</p><p>But she also thinks he probably wants to hook up with her. So she leans against the garage next to him, standing unnecessarily close. “You know what I was thinking when you started playing FIDLAR?”</p><p>“This guy only knows one band?”</p><p>She tries to figure out how to phrase this. She’s played “Can’t You See” for Flynn before and tried to explain what she sees in the song, and Flynn just shakes her head every time. “I always thought that song was hot. Not lyrically, but just something about the beats and the vocals and the… you know?” She doesn’t know why she’s surprised that he nods—she saw how he performed it. He knows. “And then I saw FIDLAR perform it live and they were so flat and low energy and it kind of killed the sexiness of it. Seeing you do it, I remembered. It’s a weirdly hot song.” Especially when performed by Luke. </p><p>A shy smirk appears in the corner of his mouth. “Glad I could renew your horniness for FIDLAR.” He leans closer, and she’s hyperaware of the fact that she can feel the warmth of his body. “You know, none of that was an apology.”</p><p>How does he remember everything she says in order to quote it back to her? Trying to imitate him, she puts her hands on her heart. “I’m sorry. You are a human wrecking ball, and I throw myself at your feet.”</p><p>Instead of the disdainful reaction she gave him in response to the same line, he eyes her up and down. That same look he gave her in the green room when she posed on the makeup counter. She thinks it doesn’t literally set her on fire, but she’s not 100% sure. “Yet you remain standing.”</p><p>She licks her lips pointedly. “I don’t need to be.”</p><p>A small choking noise comes from his throat—he clearly wasn’t expecting her to take him up on it. “Only if you want to.”</p><p>“Assume I’ve been wanting to since you started playing that song.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay, just let me…” He shrugs out of his flannel and lays it on the ground. It takes her a moment to understand. “For your knees.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Um.</p><p>That’s…</p><p>Oh fuck.</p><p>How did he turn her giving him a blow job into him being sweet?</p><p>Maybe “not kissing” isn’t going to be a strong enough defense for her heart here.</p><p>She dares to look at him and he’s staring back with a smile that is… confusing. It’s not awed or heated, just soft and sweet. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it looks affectionate. Does he make that face at every person he hooks up with? That sounds exhausting.</p><p>He leans in to kiss her, so she ducks her head and reaches for his zipper. “I’ve got better things to do with my mouth.” She hopes it comes across as seductive, but he just looks confused. Ugh. She needs to work on this whole “being sexy” thing.</p><p>She starts to kneel on his flannel, but he groans. “Wait. I kinda want to be inside you.”</p><p>“… you will be.”</p><p>“Right, but… you know.”</p><p>He’s giving her that green room look again, and she’s all too aware that it’s been four months since the bathroom. If she’d worn anything but this jumpsuit, she would say yes, but she literally can’t. <i>Way to cock block yourself, Molina.</i> But the look on his face gives her enough confidence to suggest, “Next time?”</p><p>He gives her a relieved grin and runs a hand delicately over her curls. “I’ll hold you to that.”</p><p>But his voice isn't heated. It's hushed and gentle.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>She’s going to fall for this fuckboy, isn’t she?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank so much for all your lovely and encouraging comments! If I ever develop self-confidence, you will only have yourselves to blame.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Don't You Tell Me No Truths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Rumble and Sway" by Jamie N Commons</p><p>Fun fact: my original plan for Julie’s POV was for it to be an 8k oneshot. This chapter is 8k. I am an unrestrained monster.</p><p>If you’ve been reading this without reading <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232234/chapters/66523612">100 Bad Days</a>, now is when we’ll be diverging a bit more, with more plot points only happening in the original fic, so make sure to read that first!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julie runs into Luke at a party a couple days later. At first, she’s not sure how to wrangle this into a hookup—what is she supposed to do, go up and chat about the weather and then ask if he wants to stick his dick in her? (She’s never done this before. But she suspects that’s the wrong approach.)</p><p>But then Reggie and Alex leave Luke alone for a moment. Before she can second guess herself, she walks up and grabs his hand, shooting him a questioning look. A grin fills his face and he follows as she drags him to the laundry room.</p><p>After he locks the door behind them, he pops her up on top of the washing machine and smiles up at her.</p><p>“Hey,” she smiles back.</p><p>“Hey yourself.”</p><p>“You’re at a party on a Monday.”</p><p>He raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to verbalize the hypocrisy. “It’s Labor Day. I’m celebrating myself.”</p><p>She feels awkward for a moment, because she’s at this party to protest the concept of studying. She is <i>not</i> a laborer and they both know that—she can still vividly picture his face as he made the crack about her living off her dad’s money. Trying to change the topic, she glances down at him, realizing the height of the washing machine isn’t right.</p><p>“This is too tall, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yeah. I just wanted to see your face.” He rubs the back of his head.</p><p>As she takes in the room, she realizes that it’s very cramped and maybe not at all conducive for this. Huh. She’s <i>really</i> never done this before. “What do you recommend? You’re the expert.”</p><p>His face quirks in confusion. “… of laundry room sex?”</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>The confusion doesn’t leave his face, but he glances around the room. Snagging a dusty phone book from the top of a shelf, he dumps it on the ground in front of the machine. A cloud of dust explodes in the air. Wild coughs tear their way out of her mouth.</p><p>He waves away the dust with his hand, sending her a bashful smile.</p><p>“I thought the laundry room would be sexier than a closet,” she confesses. “But this really isn’t sexy, is it?”</p><p>He laughs, then hops up on the phone book, suddenly right up in her space. “I mean, it’s a little dusty. But… still sexy.” He runs his eyes over her as he says it, and she can feel the awkwardness dissipate instantly. A smile curls up the corner of his mouth. “I’m, uh, glad I ran into you.”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>She nods. He bites his lip, then leans in. She sidesteps his lips, capturing the side of his neck and sucking it fiercely. He groans, clutching her waist to keep himself upright. Then she raises her lips to his ear and whispers, “I mean, I’ve been horny for, like, the past two days.”</p><p>As soon as she says it, she’s not sure if she should have. Is she supposed to be pretending that she’s also fucking a lot of other people? But he breathes a moan in her ear and his grip on her tightens. “We should definitely take care of that,” he rasps, and drops his head to the crook of her neck.</p><p>And so it goes. She sees him at open mics, at house parties, at Sunset Curve’s weekly garage parties. She even runs into him at a couple gigs—it’s the only time she’s ever really dressed up, and the looks he gives her make her feel like maybe she’s not so bad at this “trying to be sexy” thing. (The way he bends her over the bathroom sink and fucks her from behind doesn’t hurt either.)</p><p>It quickly becomes obvious that he has a favorite position: his head between her legs. Which she would already be a big fan of, but the faces he makes while he goes down on her are truly obscene. Either he’s watching her face, like he could get off just on watching her pleasure. Or his eyes are closed with this blissful expression like he can’t imagine anything better he could possibly be doing (very similar to how he looks when he loses himself in a guitar solo, which makes it harder for her to keep her mind on singing when he does that in gigs.)</p><p>It’s… a lot. He’s a lot.</p><p>She’s very careful to keep up walls, especially not saying his name during sex. She’s trying to keep the Luke she performs with, the guy who seems to be competing with Flynn and her dad for “#1 Julie Molina stan,” separate from the guy who screws her brains out. If she mentally combines the fuckboy with the musician, she’s going to be in trouble. Because the Luke she performs with has the same musical instincts she does, the same passion she used to, and he’s overflowing with this generous, supportive energy that’s completely addictive. He makes her feel like a real musician again, and if she accepts that he’s the same guy who can play her body like an instrument, she’s going to be well and truly fucked.</p><p>So she keeps the walls up. She doesn’t let herself examine whether or not she thinks they’re working.</p><p>Luckily(?), this is the semester from hell, so she’s got plenty of distractions.</p><p>She goes to open mics three or four times a month, and performs at some of their garage parties, and going out on stage is getting easier. But only ever with the guys at her side, and only ever to sing the type of songs she doesn’t normally sing. Her voice isn’t really built for grunge or garage rock, and it’s easier to not think about her mother when she’s performing the kind of music she never did with her mom.</p><p>But in class, it’s a whole different story. All of her rage is starting to burn inwards at herself. She can perform music she doesn’t care that much about with the guys. Why can’t she perform music she loves for herself? Why can’t she just get over this already? Will she ever feel like herself again? Will she ever be a real musician again?</p><p>The poorly concealed hurt in her dad’s voice when he finds out doesn’t help. “You didn’t tell me you were performing again.”</p><p>Julie rests the phone on the mattress next to her. She’s infinitely grateful that he can’t see her curled up in a ball of sadness. “It’s not really performing. I do random covers with this band. It’s not the kind of stuff you would like.”</p><p>“You know I’ll love anything you sing.”</p><p>“I know.” But having her dad there reminds her of her mom, and she doesn’t know how to sing with that reminder. “It’s just—”</p><p>“It’s okay if you’re not ready yet. But whenever you do feel ready, you invite me and you know I’ll be there.” She blinks away the moisture in her eyes. Her dad’s endless support means the world to her, but the guilty surety that she doesn’t deserve it rings through her whole body. “Who is this band?”</p><p>“This rock band that lives by USC. We met at a party.” She pushes away the memory of that first meeting. “Flynn’s friends with the drummer.”</p><p>“Do I get to meet this band? Thank them for getting you back on stage?”</p><p>She plays with the hole in her jeans. “Maybe. They’ll probably get sick of me soon, though.”</p><p>“Then they’re not a very good band.” Her dad’s outrage at the hypothetical scenario in which Sunset Curve doesn’t want to play with her anymore almost makes her laugh. “Well, no matter what kind of music it is or who this band is, I’m glad you’re singing again. Baby steps, <i>mija</i>. Your mom would be so proud.”</p><p>After their phone call, Julie lies on her bed staring at the ceiling. Would her mom be proud? Definitely of “By Myself.” Maybe even of “Hot Blooded”—her mom never let shame interfere with her life. But now, after three months of only singing that kind of stuff? Would she not be exasperated by now?</p><p>She almost wants her dad to come to an open mic or one of the garage parties, so she can get a sense of what he thinks. But even if she were emotionally ready, which she isn’t, she doesn’t think her dad attending a gig she performs with Luke would be a good idea. Singing with him can go from completely non-sexual to sexual without warning. Like that time someone requests “This Baby Don’t Cry” at a garage party, and she makes the mistake of glancing at Luke during the “<i>am I good at sex?</i>” line, and he WINKS IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.</p><p>(He makes it up to her later, moaning her name into her neck as he fucks her up against the back of the garage. But still. Not a risk she’s going to take in front of <i>her dad</i>.)</p><p>Flynn seems dubious about the whole thing.</p><p>“It’s just sex!” Julie insists as they sit between two columns in the film school courtyard. Julie keeps a wary eye on the coffee counter inside, like Reggie will somehow hear them through the walls.</p><p>“Is it though?” Flynn glances at her skeptically over her frappuccino.</p><p>“Yes! There’s no kissing, no nudity, no beds, no exchanging numbers, no saying names…” Okay, well, Luke actually says her name a lot, but Flynn doesn’t need to know that. The point is, Julie doesn’t say his name.</p><p>Flynn raises an eyebrow. “But are there feelings?”</p><p>“No!” The high pitch to her voice doesn’t seem to be convincing Flynn, so Julie tries again. “No. Just sex, I swear.” Flynn settles back against the column behind her, still looking troubled. “Why? Do you still hate him?”</p><p>“I don’t like how he treated you when you met, but he seems mostly fine now.” She points a firm finger at Julie. “But that’s luck, not a lesson you should learn. If a guy is a dick to you the first time you meet, 98% of the time he’s genuinely a dick and he’s shown you his true self. Let’s please never do all this again.”</p><p>“So if it’s not Luke, then what are you worried about?”</p><p>Flynn sighs and studies Julie, like she’s debating whether to say this. “Okay, honestly? I think you’re using Sunset Curve to avoid re-developing your own relationship with music.”</p><p>“You said you wanted me to take baby steps. This is a baby step.”</p><p>“But you’ve been taking the same step for three months.” Shame shoots through her, and Julie looks down at her lap. Flynn’s hand appears on hers. “That came out wrong. If this is what you need right now then I’m totally on-board. I’m just worried that this is…”</p><p>She trails off, like she can’t find the words, but Dr. Turner said a similar thing at this week’s session, so Julie supplies it. “A detour on the journey of my healing that isn’t helping me reach my destination?”</p><p>Flynn brightens. “I love when your therapist agrees with me. It’s very validating.”</p><p>Julie sighs and leans back against her column. The truth is, she doesn’t know. There are times, when she’s on stage, when her whole body is full of the song and the moment, when she’s convinced that this can’t be anything but healing. But there are other times when she feels like she’s just replaced never singing with only being able to sing with this group of people. She’s reliant on them, and that’s deeply uncomfortable, especially when she doesn’t know how long it’ll be before they get sick of her and tell her to figure it out herself. Will she be able to get on stage when they want her gone, or will the detour end up looping her right back to the start of the journey?  </p><p>“Wait, so is your problem with Luke about me sleeping with him, or about me performing with him?”</p><p>“I can have multiple concerns with Luke at once. I’m very complex.” Flynn pretends to flip her braids over her shoulder with a grin.</p><p>Julie forces a smile over her cappuccino, trying not to let all the worries swirling through her overwhelm her.</p>
<hr/><p>After three months, Julie’s gotten used to the obvious issues. She knows she’s overly dependent on Sunset Curve when it comes to performing, and she’s gotten used to Luke the fuckboy. Even if she gets confused by that sometimes. Because there are times when he gazes at her, and if anyone else looked at her like that, she’d think they were… well, the word she would use is smitten, and Flynn would never let her live that down. But that’s what a master fuckboy does, doesn’t he? He makes you feel like the center of the world as long as he can get some use out of you. Every time Luke looks at her like that, she immediately reminds herself: he’s a fuckboy. This is what they do. Don’t buy into it.</p><p>The thing about the Luke situation that continues to frustrate her is his reaction to USC. Every time she thinks she’s cracking the mystery, he throws a new spanner in the works. Most of the time, USC seems to make him angry, but sometimes she’ll make reference to a class or event, and there will be this wistful look on his face. Her best guess is that he applied and didn’t get in, but that doesn’t explain the deep well of rage. Pouting and maybe some resentment, but not the depths of his hurt and anger. There’s a painful wound there and she doesn’t understand it so she doesn’t really know how to navigate around it. The best she can come up with is to avoid mentioning USC. That’s her main thing—don’t bring up USC around Luke.</p><p>So naturally, she runs into him while she’s drunk at a USC-UCLA tailgating party, dressed from head-to-toe in crimson and gold Trojan apparel, and triumphantly spelling out the university’s name in some random person’s front yard. When she realizes he’s passing by on the sidewalk, watching her with a bemused expression, she stops short.</p><p>Why does he have to catch her in the middle of the SoCal Spellout? Objectively the most embarrassing USC chant of all time.</p><p>She wants to distract him, and the only way she knows how to do that is with music, so she dances over to the chain link fence that separates them and starts loudly singing “Tusk.” Except the only lyrics she knows are “<i>don’t say that you love me</i>,” “<i>tusk!</i>” and “<i>UCLA sucks</i>,” and she’s pretty sure that last one isn’t an official lyric, so it’s mostly her triumphantly humming the chorus in his face.</p><p>It’s probably the most insufferably USC thing she could do, but he’s grinning. “You guys winning then?”</p><p>“No idea! They”—she gestures wildly at the house—“didn’t pay their electricity bill, so we have no TV, and Flynn took my phone.”</p><p>“Why does she have your phone?”</p><p>“I don’t know! There were reasons and now they are gone!”</p><p>He eyes her softly, then slips off his bag and pulls out a water bottle. He holds it out to her.</p><p>Oh god. He thinks she’s a drunken mess.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>She <i>is</i> a drunken mess.</p><p>Still. Aiming for prim, she crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t believe in mixing water with alcohol.”</p><p>“Drink half of that and I’ll tell you the score.”</p><p>Pouting, she accepts the bottle and starts drinking. He searches on his phone.</p><p>Okay, try not to act like an annoying drunk girl. Be chill.</p><p>“What’s happening, what’s happening, what’s happening, what’s happening!”</p><p>He smiles, shaking his head at her. “4th quarter. 24-20, Trojans. USC has the ball on the 46th yard line.”</p><p>She tries to read his phone, but she can’t stop bouncing up and down, which is getting in the way. “What down are we on?” Normally, she wouldn’t care—she tends to be a “cheer whenever everyone else is cheering” kind of sports fan, but this isn’t just any game. This is USC vs. UCLA, and she wants to know how close they are to victory.</p><p>He looks at her for a second, then grins mischievously, holds up his right hand, and speedily runs through a series of gestures: counting off three fingers, dropping all but one, dropping that finger, then raising two fingers in the USC “V” for victory. It’s the series of gestures that USC students do when they’re on third down and begging the team to get the ball forward just that little bit more.</p><p>Operating under drunk Julie logic, she seizes his fingers and checks for puppet strings. “<i>How</i> do you know how to do that?”</p><p>Nodding in the direction of the football stadium, he smirks. “I was raised in that Coliseum.”</p><p>Well, that doesn’t fit in her narrative at all. Petulantly, she drops his fingers and pouts. “You are <i>very</i> confusing.”</p><p>“And you’re not drinking your water.”</p><p>She takes another big gulp. He rubs the back of his head, and she can see a faint bruise poking above the neck of his shirt. She doesn’t recall doing that, so that’s got to be someone else’s work. Possessiveness swims through her, and she’s overcome with the urge to cover the hickey with one of her own.</p><p>“Do you want to fuck?” she asks.</p><p>She’s expecting some sort of reaction, but his face doesn’t change and he doesn’t miss a beat. “Nope, sober and consenting only.”</p><p>“Are those the only restrictions on who you sleep with?”</p><p>He eyes her for a moment, then tucks a loose curl behind her ear. “Must love FIDLAR and Macy Gray.”</p><p>She’s not really sure what to make of that, or of the look on his face as he says it, and she’s nowhere near clear-headed enough to figure it out, so she focuses on the important part. “Can I at least think about you tonight when I get myself off?”</p><p>His mouth falls open and stays that way for a couple seconds. “You, um… You don’t need my permission.”</p><p>“It felt rude to do it without asking.”</p><p>“Nah, you’re, uh, good to, uh, do that any time you want.” He stares at her for a long moment, then shakes his head. “Do you have a designated semi-sober friend?”</p><p>“Yes, Flynn!” She looks around, but there is no Flynn. Then she remembers. “Wait, Flynn is in Los Feliz.”</p><p>“… who did you give your phone to?”</p><p>She shrugs. Okay, maybe water is good.</p><p>His face screws up with worry and he checks the time on his phone. “Shit.” It’s only then that she clocks that he’s wearing his work shirt.</p><p>“You’re not staying?”</p><p>“Nah, I’m on my way to work. Just wanted to say hi.” He glances back the way he came, in the direction of his house. “Look, Alex and Reg are right around the corner. Would you let them walk you home whenever you’re ready to go?”</p><p>“I don’t need an escort! I am a string obedient woman—”</p><p>Hmm. She feels like that didn’t come out right.</p><p>“You <i>are</i> a string obedient woman,” he agrees very seriously. “But you are also very drunk, and I’d feel better if I knew you were gonna get home okay.”</p><p>He looks so concerned that it makes her want to hug him, so she does. He hesitates, then wraps his arms around her, the fence between them knocking at their elbows.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll take the escort,” she mumbles into his chest.</p><p>It’s a long moment before he extricates himself from her. “I gotta run, but you’ll stay right here? One of them will be here super soon.”</p><p>She nods. He gives her a small smile and starts to bounce down the sidewalk.</p><p>“Wait, Luke!” she calls. He glances back. “You said you wanted to say hi, but you didn’t say hi.”</p><p>A grin sprouts on his face, that awful soft grin that makes her heart go all fast and her head go all confused. “Hi,” he says gently.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>There’s a beat, and then he gives an awkward wave. “Bye.”</p><p>“Bye.” </p><p>As he sprints away, she leans against the fence to watch him go. He’s doing the bouncy step again, but she’s finding it difficult to get as irritated by it as she did even three months ago.</p><p>Alex and Reggie appear together shortly after. “You ordered an Uber?” Reggie asks with a cheerful smile.</p><p>Julie shakes her head seriously. “I gave my phone to a stranger.”</p><p>The guys exchange a glance. Alex sighs. “Okay, yeah, he wasn’t overreacting.”</p><p>Reggie offers her the crook of his elbow. “Milady?”</p><p>She links her arm through his and lets him tug her through the opening of the fence at the end of the driveway. Alex takes the lead, as the only one who currently knows where Flynn and Julie live, and the group starts stumbling down the street.</p><p>Julie realizes the water bottle is still in her hand. “Oh no, I stole from Luke.”</p><p>Reggie smiles. “If you finish that by the time we get to your place, we’ll return it to him.”</p><p>She narrows her eyes. “This feels like a trick to make me drink more water.”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“… fine.”</p><p>She takes another sip, then her mind drifts back to the guitarist and his inexplicable smiles. “Luke is very confusing,” she announces. Maybe Reggie and Alex can explain him.</p><p>“Is he?” Reggie asks, voice not giving anything away.</p><p>“Why does he hate USC?”</p><p>“You’d have to ask him.”</p><p>“I can’t. He’ll do that kicked puppy face.”</p><p>Alex snorts loudly but doesn’t say anything. Well, that’s rudely unhelpful.</p><p>“You guys don’t hate USC, do you?”</p><p>“I hate the entirety of society, but not USC specifically, no,” Alex replies.</p><p>“I don’t hate anything. Except when people say they hate country music without actually listening to country music. Or when people make fun of the banjo. Or when there’s no pizza.” Julie giggles and tries to rest her head on Reggie’s shoulder, but it gets bounced back off by their walking.</p><p>Alex glances back at her. “Luke’s just got a… complicated relationship with USC.”</p><p>She’s suddenly very aware of her extremely USC-themed outfit. “Does he hate me?”</p><p>“Do you think he hates you?” Alex sounds concerned.</p><p>She pictures the gentle smiles Luke sends her, the softness in his eyes when he laid down the flannel for her knees and handed her the water bottle. Similar to the way he looked when he brought Alex his inhaler.</p><p>That’s her answer, isn’t it? He does care about her. The same way he cares about any of the musical people in his life. She’s only confused because he’s also hooking up with her.</p><p>She sighs. “No.” Then she thinks of the hickey on Luke’s neck and groans. “How does he have so much sex?”</p><p>Alex stumbles and Reggie coughs loudly.</p><p>“You know, it’s not something we talk about,” Alex finally replies delicately.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Just… none of our business.”</p><p>Reggie laughs. “You would know better than us.”</p><p>Alex turns around and hisses, “Reggie!”</p><p>They reach the main intersection at Hoover and 28th, and Reggie keeps a firm grip on her elbow as she leans against the traffic signal pole, watching the five busy lanes of game day traffic speed by.</p><p>It suddenly occurs to her that they’re walking her in the opposite direction of their house. In fact, they probably came from their house to walk her to her apartment. “Sorry to bother you. I know I’m just one of Luke’s vaginas.”</p><p>Reggie makes a noise halfway between a choke and cackle, but Alex meets her gaze very seriously. “You’re no one’s vagina. You’re our friend.”</p><p>“And basically our bandmate,” Reggie adds. He and Alex exchange a look that she doesn’t understand.</p><p>But that just reminds her that she relies on them to get on stage. She doesn’t help them. She’s just a wreck. “Sorry I’m a burden.”</p><p>Reggie shakes his head. “The band is family. We take care of our family. Nothing’s more important than the band.” He squeezes her arm comfortingly, and she’s temporarily overwhelmed with the desire to actually be part of the band. To take the stage with them officially, to be an actual partner rather than a burdensome add-on. She wants to perform with family again.</p><p>Most of what they say on the walk blurs in her mind, but that sentence stays: “Nothing’s more important than the band.”</p>
<hr/><p>By the time they get back to her place, she has to hold onto the door jamb to keep herself upright. She swings Luke’s empty water bottle toward Reggie, who just manages to catch it. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Of course.” Both guys nod.</p><p>On impulse, she jumps forward and hugs Alex. He immediately hugs her back. She becomes aware of a smell radiating off of him, warm and… crispy?</p><p>“You smell like bread,” she mumbles into his shirt.</p><p>Alex laughs. “Food service life. You are what you serve.”</p><p>She stumbles into Reggie’s hug next. “You guys are the best.”</p><p>“You are too. Don’t forget that, okay?” Reggie grins at her.</p><p>She trips into her apartment, feeling… well, really embarrassed, but also like she might be on the verge of finding her place in another family.</p>
<hr/><p>The conversation with Professor Harrison about her performance practice class isn’t a surprise, but it is a reminder that, while Julie isn’t sure whether her time with Sunset Curve is a detour from or part of her healing journey, the university definitely thinks it’s the former.</p><p>“I just want to hear your voice. It doesn’t have to be in the classroom, and it doesn’t even have to be classical music. It just needs to make use of your vocal range. I just want to know that you’re making some progress.” Her professor sighs and refuses to meet her eyes. “Otherwise, we need to start having a conversation about whether this is the best place for you right now.”</p><p>So when Julie gets to the open mic that night, she’s filled with that same urge she felt at the house party seven months ago. The urge to be irresponsible and destructive. Normally, she waits until after they perform to hook up with Luke, but the instant he walks in the green room, she shoots him what she hopes comes across as a heated look. He bites his lip and smirks at her, and that’s when Reggie runs in. “Luke, your parents are here!”</p><p>She hasn’t seen Luke that shocked since she took the mic from him at the first garage party. But instead of the delighted shock as she sang FIDLAR, this shock is full of the same pain that swallows his face when USC comes up.</p><p>“What?” Luke, normally self-assured and so confident in his own skin, stumbles backwards and sits on the makeup counter, barely seeming to notice what’s happening around him. His fingers drift to one of the tuning keys on his guitar and begin twisting it aggressively. “How… what?”</p><p>“I tweeted about it from the Sunset Curve Twitter. Maybe they follow us on social media?” Reggie suggests.</p><p>“But <i>why</i> would they come?” The question breaks her heart. He’s so incredibly talented—do his parents not know? Not care? She has a dad who would show up in an instant who she keeps away, and he has parents who refuse to show up when they easily could? The inversion of their situations makes her ache with guilt.</p><p>The string he’s been tuning on his guitar has gone completely slack and someone needs to stop him. Alex and Reggie seem almost as lost as Luke, so Julie steps forward.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, of course.” She puts her hand on the tuning key, and only then does he seem to notice what he’s done. “Shit.” He starts retuning. She looks to Alex and Reggie, trying to get a sense of whether or not she’s worrying too much. But their faces are tense and serious. “I’m fine,” Luke tries, speaking too loudly.</p><p>Looking at him like this, nervous and fumbling and terrified, she wonders if this is how she seems when she can’t perform. All at once, her own fears walk out of the room. Not permanently, but for tonight. She struggles to get on the stage for herself, but she’ll get out there in a heartbeat to help him.</p><p> “Can I play with you guys again?”</p><p>His eyes shoot up to hers, seeing through the gesture. “I’m fine,” he repeats.</p><p>Hopefully two can play the “I won’t do this for myself, but I will do it for you” game. She crosses her arms and insists, “Well, I’m not. So what are we singing?”</p><p>Reggie pulls up his phone, looking for his list of songs. When he first brought out the pre-made list at their fifth open mic together, it had made her feel warm and accepted in a way she struggled to articulate. But it also made her feel like a burden—look at the lengths they have to go to accommodate her. Right now, she’s just grateful. Whatever it takes to help Luke.</p><p>(<i>This is why they do it for you too</i>, a voice whispers. She ignores it.)</p><p>“Okay, so we have ‘No Sleep Tonight,’ ‘I Want You To Want Me,’ ‘Sex On Fire,’ ‘Get Off’… wait, no, sorry. This is Alex’s no-fly list.”</p><p>“His what?”</p><p>“A list of songs I’m not comfortable performing with the whole band.” Alex replies carefully.</p><p>Oh. She’s not sure how long the guys have known about her and Luke, but the reminder makes her feel itchy. Like they might judge her for being yet another one of their friend’s groupies.</p><p>A vicious smile comes across Luke’s face. “Actually, that’s an idea. The no-fly list.”</p><p>“Do I need to remind you what ‘no-fly’ means?”</p><p>“You want me to not be focused on my parents. I will not be thinking about my parents if we play ‘Get Off.’”</p><p>On the one hand, Julie knows that she will probably never meet his parents. But on the other hand, there’s no way she can sing that song with Luke without everyone in the crowd realizing that they’ve had sex, and she will never be bold enough to do that in front of the parents of someone she’s sleeping with.</p><p>“I don’t know that I’m comfortable singing that in front of your parents.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Thankfully, Alex sighs heavily and, almost synchronized with her, he and Reggie sing, “<i>All I want to do is get off</i>.”</p><p>Alex glances at the list. “I’m willing to compromise on ‘I Want You to Want Me.’ But there will be no humping on stage. My poor gay heart can’t take that.”</p><p>Luke’s eyes fall to the floor. He looks… absolutely wrecked. She’s never seen him cry, but she feels like she has because he’s just so destroyed and ripped open right now.</p><p>She has no idea what he needs, so she just hopes that he’s been doing for her what he would want someone else to do for him. She steps closer, snagging his gaze. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” He doesn’t look convinced, so she squeezes his hand, trying to make it as unromantic as possible. “Don’t worry about what’s going on out there. Just be here with us.”</p><p>He smiles at her hand, surprisingly shy. “Okay.”</p><p>And as they sing together, she’s struck by the fact that, while she hopes he’ll never be in that kind of pain again, she doesn’t feel as burdensome or alone anymore. Their pain may be completely different, and she may not fully understand his, but she sees behind the confident mask to a more vulnerable Luke who sometimes needs comfort just as much as she does.</p><p>Maybe they’re both wrecks, and he’s just got a better mask than she does.</p>
<hr/><p>She doesn’t regret interrupting him while he’s eating her out in the car. Because talking about their feelings—an actual honest conversation about USC and putting their pain into music and admitting that she’s at risk of failing a class—feels more intimate than anything they’ve done before.</p><p>But when he pulls up at the parking meter in front of the 24/7 Sprinkles cupcake ATM in Beverly Hills, she becomes acutely aware of the fact that he didn’t finish. Because there’s suddenly a weirdly date-like energy in the air.</p><p>They’ve never gotten food before. They’ve rarely even been alone together unless they’re having sex or on the way to sex. But sex seems to be off the table for the night, so they’re just… hanging out.</p><p>As they approach the ATM, the menu music begins to play. And Luke starts… singing along under his breath?</p><p>“<i>I love Sprinkles, yes I do, yes I do. The best cupcakes in the world.</i>”</p><p>He nods at her, the way he does when he’s inviting her to join him at the mic. She rolls her eyes, but joins in. “<i>I love Sprinkles, yes I do, yes I do. The best cupcakes in the world. I love Sprinkles.</i>”</p><p>He holds his hand out to her. Confused, she takes it, only for him to twirl her as the song kicks into higher gear. She bursts out laughing and shakes her head. “We are <i>not</i> singing this at 2 am.”</p><p>“That’s the only time to sing the Sprinkles theme,” he insists. But he taps the screen. “What can I get you?”</p><p>“I’m paying. You never ask for gas money.”</p><p>“Cause I don’t usually drive you anywhere worth going,” he admits bashfully. He almost seems like he’s testing it out, because they don’t really talk about the sex they’re having. And he’s got a point. They normally only drive until they find someplace that seems suitable for parking the car and hooking up. More of a moving hotel room than him driving her somewhere.</p><p>“Come on. Let the royalty foot the bill.”</p><p>He grins at her, another one of those grins that leaves her temporarily breathless. “If you insist.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>He taps the menu, then turns to look at her. “You choose first.”</p><p>“… why?”</p><p>“Cause I’m gonna judge your choice.”</p><p>Eyeing him nervously, she adds a carrot cupcake to the cart. He groans loudly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I knew you had to have a flaw hiding somewhere, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”</p><p>She’s absolutely incapable of engaging with the compliment woven into that, so she rolls her eyes. “What’s your flawless choice, hot shot?”</p><p>He slides in right next to her and taps the black and white cupcake. “Chocolate cupcake, vanilla frosting. Obviously.”</p><p>“I don’t think cupcake flavors are obvious.”</p><p>“Carrot is obviously wrong. Sorry, that’s just facts.”</p><p>He grins down at her, and she’s very aware of how close they’re standing. She tries to focus on the screen as she pays with her card, but she’s aware the whole time of his proximity. It’s different from the tense energy that settles over them before they hook up. Not heated, but… sweet.</p><p>Stop it. He’s a fuckboy. Don’t buy into it.</p><p>She pulls her phone out of her pocket to distract herself, pretending to check the time. He chuckles softly. “You found it?”</p><p>Remembering her drunkness the week before, she scrunches up her face. “Yeahhh, apparently I just walked up to a classmate and insisted that he ‘hold onto it’ for me.”</p><p>“Huh. Do you know why?”</p><p>“No idea. I was… pretty fucked up. Sorry, I’m sure I was really annoying.”</p><p>He shrugs easily. “Nah. Anyone else, sure. But you’re good.” He refuses to meet her eyes as he says it, and she doesn’t know what that means, but it makes her chest tingle. “Heard you guys won.”</p><p>“We did. Sorry.”</p><p>Laughing, he shakes his head. “Look, I hate USC, but not so much that I want UCLA to win. I got standards.”</p><p>She grins at him and he grins back and for a second, it feels like… something.</p><p>He’s a fuckboy, don’t buy into it. He’s a fuckboy, don’t buy into it. He’s a fuckboy, don’t buy into it…</p><p>The dispensing window of the cupcake ATM opens to reveal two boxes of cupcakes. She shakes herself internally and grabs the box with her cupcake. As soon as he grabs his, he opens the box and scoops out some frosting with the tip of his finger. He sucks the finger in his mouth, and she’s reminded again of what he didn’t get to finish doing in the car.</p><p>He catches her looking. “Hey, you wanted to talk about my parents.”</p><p>“And I now regret that.”</p><p>“We’ll rain check, don’t worry.”</p><p>To avoid answering, she takes a bite of her cupcake. He grins. “Frosting on your nose.” Stepping closer, he scrapes the frosting off with his finger. Then he proffers his finger to her.</p><p>“What, you don’t want to try some?” she asks.</p><p>“Cream cheese frosting? Basic.” She leans forward and wraps her mouth around his fingertip, swirling her tongue across the pad of his finger. He groans. “Was that necessary?”</p><p>“You knew I was going to do that.”</p><p>“Yeah, I did.” His gaze falls to her lips.</p><p>For a moment she’s suddenly struck by how soft his gaze is, how tenderly he’s gazing at her. It’s really hard to believe that he looks at everyone like that. She knows that’s the fuckboy trap, but for a second, she feels special.</p><p>“Did I mention how amazing you were tonight?” he asks quietly.</p><p>Oh, right. It’s not her that’s special: it’s her voice.</p><p>“No, you were really slacking on the compliments tonight. Where’s my hype man?” she asks, giving him a playful—and distancing—shove.</p><p>The smile on his face dims a bit but he chuckles as he slides into the driver’s seat.</p><p>She thinks about that moment outside Sprinkles a lot over the next five months, because it’s charged in a completely new way. In spite of the innuendo, the whole thing feels flirty and romantic rather than passionate and sexual, and she doesn’t realize how much she craves that until it vanishes for almost half a year.</p>
<hr/><p>On the drive back, she plays through some songs she thinks will match their instruments and voices before they settle on a Chelsea Cutler collab.</p><p>When they’re stopped at a red light, she pauses the music so she can sing “you were good to me,” trying it out with her voice.</p><p>He freezes and his mouth falls open, like he just got struck by lightning.</p><p>It feels excessive given how much her voice is cracking through the thick coating of frosting in her throat. “Are you okay?”</p><p>His Adams apple bobs. “Just regretting every song choice we made on stage. We’ve been burying that voice.”</p><p>All at once she realizes that he hasn’t <i>really</i> heard her voice before. She’s been thinking of the singing she does with them as “not her type of music,” but she hasn’t noticed that she hasn’t been showing off her full voice in front of him. As far as she’s been concerned, he’s heard her sing something, so he knows what her voice sounds like. As if his brain could autocomplete the sound. But as she quickly runs all the songs they’ve sung together through her head, she realizes he’s only heard enough to confirm that she has a decent voice. He’s never heard the way that pop and classical music let her voice really come to life and own a room.</p><p>But… if he hasn’t been interested in her voice, what the hell <i>has</i> he been interested in?</p>
<hr/><p>They arrange to rehearse a couple more times that week, and his energy is off both times. Apparently seeing his parents has really messed him up, and he’s acting strangely, withdrawn and not making eye contact as much as normal.</p><p>She longs for the night at Sprinkles. The bonding in the car, the flirting on the sidewalk. But she doesn’t know how to make him feel better.</p><p>Working with him, even on an existing song, is an experience she’s never had before. The way he sits next to her while she’s on the piano bench and the neck of his guitar occasionally brushes her arm. The way he meets her eyes and sings gently right into her soul. She learns new details about him as he marks up his guitar tabs of “Crying Over You”—how atrocious his handwriting is, how he bounces his leg to keep time, how his forearm muscles ripple as he rolls a guitar pick through them—</p><p>Okay, focus, Julie.</p><p>She’s not focusing.</p><p>When she can’t take the sheer attractiveness of songwriter Luke anymore, she pops up to sit on the side of the piano in the guys' garage. She watches him for a moment, his guitar pick between his teeth as he scribbles something on the page.</p><p>“You said rain check,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral.</p><p>“Rain check for…?” He looks up, and she spreads her legs slightly to give him a hint. He freezes. “… here?” He glances around, like the instruments will be watching and judging them.</p><p>She shrugs. “If you want.”</p><p>There’s a look on his face that she doesn’t understand, almost like he’s mourning something. But then he gets up, sets his guitar on its stand, and bounces over to her at the piano. He picks up the bench, slides it in front of her, and kneels on it.</p><p>Very gently, he pushes her knees further apart, then removes the pick from his mouth and sets it next to her on the piano. He places a kiss on the inside of her right knee, then a kiss next to that, and slowly starts working his way in under her skirt. The closer he gets to his destination, the more the kisses shift from gentle pecks into messy, firm, open-mouthed kisses, until he’s at the top of her thigh and sucking a bruise into her skin. When he finishes with her right leg, he moves over to her left knee and works his way in again, until she’s practically squirming on the edge of the piano. He pulls back and looks up at her.</p><p>“Commando?” he asks conversationally.</p><p>“I came prepared.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ.” He collapses his forehead on her thigh.</p><p>She drapes her legs casually over his shoulders. “How long before the guys come back from work?” she asks.</p><p>“Like, forty minutes.”</p><p>He starts kissing his way back in.</p><p>“How many times do you think you can get me off in that time?”</p><p>He moans into her inner thigh, then meets her gaze. “Let’s see.”</p><p>She honestly forgets to keep track, but she does know that the last time she almost calls out his name.</p><p>Almost.</p>
<hr/><p>After all the buildup, the performance itself is surprisingly easy. Taking the stage with Luke makes it feel like a normal open mic or garage party. As does sitting next to him and singing to him, totally focused on the narrative of the song. She can almost feel her mother’s eyes from the crowd, like she was summoned by the familiar sound of her daughter’s voice, but Luke’s presence is grounding. He keeps her focused on him, and not her mother’s ghost.</p><p>Everyone else is excited about the performance itself, but she’s excited that she was right. Sunset Curve was part of her journey, not a detour. This still isn’t her original music, and it still isn’t her full voice, but a piece of her has come back and she feels bright and light inside in a way she hasn’t in seven months.</p><p>She doesn’t know that they’re hooking up for the last time until it’s over.</p><p>Soaring on the high of a successful performance, she rides him in the front seat of his car, feeling like a damn queen. In the aftermath, her face tucked into his shoulder, she recognizes the taste of something unexpected on her lips. Is that… chocolate? She pulls back and eyes the crook of his neck. There’s a little smudge of chocolate on his skin. Oh, right, because he came directly from work—</p><p>Oh.</p><p>OH. <i>Food service life.</i></p><p>She drops her nose to his neck and inhales the overwhelming scent of fake vanilla. The smell of the shop. Of fucking course. How could she be so—</p><p>“You should join the band.” His voice sounds strained.</p><p>“I’d love that.” But why would he say this <i>now</i>? Then it clicks for her. She refuses to pull back to look at him, because she has no idea how she feels. “I guess… we probably shouldn’t do this anymore then.”</p><p>She can feel him nod. “First rule of band: don’t fuck the band.”</p><p>Right, because that’s all this has ever been. Fucking.</p><p>She tries to memorize this final feel of him, because she’ll never experience it again, but all of a sudden, his skin, his warmth, and his scent—both the vanilla and the natural Luke smell that hides under it—are intolerable to her. Rejection wriggles painfully through her entire body, and she wants to run away. Something wet prickles in her eyes, and she blinks furiously to force it back in.</p><p>She doesn’t look at him as she whispers “Okay.”</p>
<hr/><p>When she gets back home, Flynn is waiting with a big hug and a grin. “You were so great tonight!”</p><p>“Thanks.” Julie forces a smile.</p><p>It doesn’t fool her friend. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I’m, uh, joining the band. Sunset Curve. Or maybe we’re getting a new name. We haven’t talked about it yet.”</p><p>“What?? That’s so awesome. I love that for you.” Julie takes a moment to let herself enjoy it because, again, joining the band confirms that this has all been part of her journey, not a detour. A real piece of her musical life, something she can own and have some control over. But something else must show on her face, because Flynn asks gently, “But what else?”</p><p>“It’s not important. Luke and I won’t be hooking up anymore, obviously. Which is just a shame because, you know, orgasms.”</p><p>Flynn studies her face. “Are you really okay with that?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be? I can give myself orgasms. I’m a string obedient woman with a great vibrator.”</p><p>She expects Flynn to laugh, because the “string obedient woman” story has become one of Flynn’s favorites, but her friend isn’t swayed.</p><p>“You’re sure?”</p><p>“Totally.” She forces a smile that she doesn’t fully feel. Flynn doesn’t believe her, because Flynn knows better, so her friend steps in and wraps her in a tight hug. The urge to cry overwhelms Julie for a second, and she tries to swallow it. What is she crying over? Casual sex? Don’t be ridiculous.</p><p>“This is going to be great,” Flynn insists.</p><p>“Yeah. This is going to be great.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>seamariz drew Jukebox <a href="https://pearlcaddy.tumblr.com/post/636962327337598976/scene-from-just-a-casual-casual-easy-thing">at the cupcake ATM</a> and I love it so much and you should definitely check it out!</p><p>Songs/musical references in this chapter:<br/>• "This Baby Don't Cry" by K.Flay<br/>• <a href="https://youtu.be/6hzJMJ6iwyA?t=95">The SoCal Spellout</a> (yes, we literally spell out "Southern California." Yes, I spent four years pretending this was a cool thing to do. No, I don't want to talk about it.)<br/>• "Tusk" by Fleetwood Mac (but the USC version is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53Pw7RwSjts">here</a>)<br/>• "Get Off" by the Dandy Warhols<br/>• <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgsHYWAwHxM">The Sprinkles Cupcake ATM song</a> (remember in 100 Bad Days when the music was awesome? This is how far we've fallen.)<br/>• "you were good to me" by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler<br/>• "Crying Over You" by The Band CAMINO and Chelsea Cutler</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I Put the Sing in Single</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Truth Hurts" by Lizzo, obviously</p><p>It has been A Week, and this chapter has been rude to me every step of the way, so once again I present a &gt;8k monstrosity (which officially puts Casual at a higher word count than 100 Bad Days. What is brevity? Where do people learn it?)</p><p>The playlist for Casual is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xEvzpxtP9cjH28EqujXOk?si=qPF4FFPWQO2heUcXzo7DYg">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On some level, Julie knew that she didn’t really know what she was getting into when she joined the band, but she’s not prepared for the number of surprises she gets hit with over those first two months.</p><p>The first thing that surprises her is Luke himself, who goes from being this peripheral figure in her life to immediately filling up so much of her time. It’s not just rehearsals, though rehearsals are pretty time consuming. Julie and Luke are the most passionate writers in the band, and suddenly she’s spending a lot of extra time writing with him—in the garage, in their house, at the gelato shop, and (once she realizes how much he chafes at his neighbors’ reasonable request for quiet hours) the soundproof Thornton practice rooms. He quickly becomes one of her favorite people, and it becomes difficult to remember that he’s new to her life because he just fits in so easily. </p><p>Suddenly Luke is everywhere, and she keeps waiting to dislike him, but she doesn’t. He’s high-energy and sometimes he doesn’t know when to quit or to chill, like an excitable puppy. But he’s well-intentioned and goodhearted and passionate and sweet and cute and—</p><p>Okay, she’s getting off topic.</p><p>When they write together, they’re drawing on similar musical priorities, but bringing totally different knowledge sets, skills, and perspectives to the table. Like two halves of a guitar. (… Luke is the one who’s good with metaphors, okay?) And they draw from a similar pain. That’s perhaps the part of writing with him that she appreciates the most. When he’s writing, he’s completely willing to bare his soul, to reveal whatever painful parts of himself he has to in order to make the song its best. Sometimes, after admitting personal details about himself, he shrugs bashfully, mumbling, “a hundred bad days make me interesting at parties, right?” She can’t help but smile at how he’s internalized what she said in the car, even as the awkwardness lingers between them because of where he was sitting when she said it. When they’re writing, it’s like no walls exist between them, and she loves that.</p><p>Outside of writing, he tends to be a little more closed off, but she starts to get better at reading his emotional state and the way he asks for help. When he’s working through a feeling he can’t handle or understand, he often texts her for song recommendations, like he’s requesting advice and/or comfort through music.</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>song rec: inspirational, but gritty and angry in tone?<br/>
song rec: lyrically about terrible bosses, but encouraging/soothing?<br/>
song rec: comforting song about found family?</b>
  </i>
</p><p>Slowly, the mental picture she has of this bouncy fuckboy guitarist gets filled out, and it…</p><p>Well, it would make butterflies flutter in her stomach if she allowed them to, but she doesn’t, so that’s good.</p><p>Definitely she doesn’t still have a crush on him.</p><p>Look, whatever, she didn’t ask to be interrogated like this.</p><p>She learns the details of his life, like the Monthly Calls with his parents. They happen on a schedule, and thinking back, she thinks the odds are pretty good that it overlaps with the day they met. Which doesn’t excuse his behavior but does make her wish she could go back in time and give him a hug.</p><p>The USC revelation continues to make her angry, especially in the moments when she makes reference to something from class or to music outside his area of interest, and he gets this look on his face. Like it’s a reflection of him as a musician that he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Like he’s lesser for not going to this school. It drives her up a wall, because she’s surrounded by classmates who do the bare minimum and still get As. She knows how little learning actually needs to be done to get a degree. Hell, even she has a couple classes that she’s all but sleepwalking through. She’s not going to mention that to him, because that would feel like rubbing his face in it, but she wants to shake him sometimes and make him understand that his worth as a musician isn’t tied to USC. It’s not fair that he didn’t get to come here, but he never needed to.</p><p>Still, she can’t help but play out a scenario in her head sometimes. If his parents had supported him, if he’d gone to USC, what would Julie and Luke’s relationship have been? She can almost picture him at the Thornton orientation, wearing a crimson and gold cutoff and bouncing around Booth Hall with his guitar strapped to his back. Would she have noticed him? (Undoubtedly.) Would he have noticed her? (Maybe the fuckboy thing is a reaction to his parents’ rejection, and Thornton!Luke would have seen her, and only her.) Would they have recognized each other as kindred spirits and slid into an easy, instant friendship? Studying together in Doheny library, getting milkshakes at Ground Zero performance café, loudly singing the school song together in the student section of the Coliseum during football games? Would he have walked her to her dorm when they were up late studying? Taken her hand as they strolled across the quad? Kissed her under the eaves of Birnkrant dorm?</p><p>(It’s really hard to keep her mind from going there.)</p><p>On the one hand, it’s so easy to picture. But on the other hand, it’s impossible. He’s brimming with energy, drive, and impatience and she can’t picture him attending classes or slogging through piles of homework instead of just already being out in the world trying to make it. (She has an easier time picturing herself studying in Doheny while he tries to distract her. Him complaining about the size of the crowds at the Ground Zero open mic nights. Her dragging him to the football stadium when he’d “rather be practicing.”)</p><p>And every time her scenario reaches the spring semester when her mother was diagnosed, the whole bright daydream screeches to a halt. She can’t see herself finding a way to connect to this alternate universe version of Luke who’s never known pain and sorrow. What would they have to write about? What would they bond over? How would he have known how to find her in the well of her own grief and rage, and how to help pull her out?</p><p>She doesn’t have a crush on him. But she spends a lot of time living in that scenario. Even though she knows how it ends, she daydreams about finals week footsie in Doheny and gameday kisses in the Coliseum.</p><p>She doesn’t have a crush.</p><p>What she does have, which surprises her, is a ramped-up sex drive. She knew that switching from… whatever they were to bandmates would hurt the part of her that got all giggly inside when he gave her those soft looks. But she hadn’t really appreciated how fucking horny this guy made her until he wasn’t getting her off.</p><p>The first few nights after they stop hooking up, she tries not to think about him. But it doesn’t work—he keeps popping into her head. Sometimes it’s a memory of one of their hookups, and sometimes it’s a fantasy of something they never did. Embarrassingly, the fantasy that comes up most frequently is probably gentle missionary in her bed: the most vanilla of all fantasies, but also the most impossible. He’ll probably never see her room. He’ll certainly never be naked in it.</p><p>In the mornings when she sees him, she feels briefly guilty, because he’s one of her best friends and she should be feeling completely platonic about him, but… look, whatever, she’s allowed to have her memories and he literally told her she could get off to him whenever she wanted. </p><p>What she also doesn’t expect is how hot and bothered she gets in his presence. Watching him do guitar solos is the worst, because he does That Face that she knows so well. But there’s other things as well, like when the band gets Sprinkles cupcakes after an open mic and he licks the frosting off his finger and briefly glances at her. Or when he slips his guitar pick between his lips while he’s writing. Or when she watches him scoop gelato, his forearm muscles rippling as—</p><p>Jesus Christ.</p><p>She’s horny over gelato scooping. What is wrong with her?</p><p>Sure, she has a really great vibrator, but the vibrator doesn’t moan her name or look at her like it could get off just at the sight of her or shred on the guitar or make her laugh or…</p><p>Okay, she’s getting off topic again.</p><p>The point is, she’s really fucking horny and he almost always seems unaffected. So sometimes when they hang out, she tries to test the waters, to see if he’s really as immune to her as he seems. Like when they’re at a party and “Like a Girl” starts playing and, full of liquid courage, she makes direct eye contact with him as she sings, “<i>I make these boys get on their knees</i>.”</p><p>(He doesn’t meet her eyes for the rest of the night, so she probably went too far.)</p><p>So she tries to be a little more subtle, arranging herself in positions that have led to hookups before. Especially the piano. Whenever she’s wearing a dress and they’re working late into the night in a practice room, she likes to sit at the edge of the piano and lean back. She knows there are security cameras in the rooms, and that he won’t break anyways, but she’s curious to see whether he’ll look tempted.</p><p>He always does, but neither of them ever gives in, and every time she does it, she just ends up home alone with her vibrator, getting off to the memory of that one time and wondering why she does this to herself.</p>
<hr/><p>So she’s surprised when Luke becomes one of her best friends and when she turns into an absolute horndog. But PlayerGate rocks her to her core. </p><p>She’s been trying to find a way to bring up the whole player thing, because Luke strikes her as someone who would have a whole manifesto for why he’s a player, and she wants to know about it but she also wants to be casual. So when she sees an opening in the conversation about Bobby, she jumps on it.</p><p>“He was a major player.” Luke rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light and teasing.</p><p>Luke’s eyebrows scrunch low with confusion. “How’s that?”</p><p>Ugh, he’s really going to make her say this? “… cause you’re a player?”</p><p>The reaction is… not at all what she expects. Alex and Reggie collapse into hysterical cackles, and Luke looks like someone just smashed his six string.</p><p>“… what’s so funny?” she asks.</p><p>Alex and Reggie are so far gone in their laughter that they have to slap one another to calm themselves down. “To be fair,” Alex gasps at Luke. “If I didn’t know you, I would probably think you were a player.”</p><p>“Yeah, like, he’s got fuckboy energy without being a fuckboy,” Reggie agrees.</p><p>… what does he mean, <i>without</i> being a fuckboy?</p><p>Luke looks absolutely horrified. “What? Do I act like a fuckboy? Friends tell friends if they act like fuckboys!”</p><p>“No, no.” Alex takes a deep calming breath. “But if I met you at a party, I’d probably <i>think</i> you were a fuckboy. It’s just a… vibe.”</p><p>Julie’s whole head is spinning and she feels kind of distant in shock, but she can’t stop the warm feeling in her chest at how outraged and distraught Luke is. “What vibe?? Where is it coming from??”</p><p>“The shirts?” Reggie guesses.</p><p>“The bouncy walk,” Julie adds, hoping her voice doesn’t sound too faint.</p><p>“There’s just something intangible,” Alex nods.</p><p>Luke’s completely at a loss for words, and Julie desperately needs someone to explain what’s going on. Luckily Reggie jumps in. “But, yeah, Luke’s not a fuckboy or a player. Scout's honor.”</p><p>But…</p><p>The bouncy walk?</p><p>Now that she knows him, she realizes that that’s him trying to burn off excess nervous energy. </p><p>The shirts?</p><p>Again, she now knows that he hates the feeling of the sleeve hem in his armpit and he likes to have full range of movement in his shoulders when he plays.</p><p>The winking?</p><p>Part of performing. She’s never seen him do a real wink in real life.</p><p>The guys encouraging him to hook up with people at parties?</p><p>He seems to mostly stay by her side, chatting with her about music instead of hitting on anyone else.</p><p>The hickeys?</p><p>It’s… entirely possible she gave him those.</p><p>The vanilla smell?</p><p>The shop.</p><p>“Oh.” She tries to keep her tone light, but she’s not sure that she succeeds.</p><p>If he’s not a fuckboy, then…</p><p>She wishes they made Sparknotes for real life, because she wants to replay the major moments of their relationship and see whether her misinterpretation caused problems.</p><p>Because if he’s not a fuckboy, then…</p><p>No, stop. It doesn’t matter. That chapter is closed.</p><p>But if he’s not a fuckboy, then…</p><p><i>No.</i> It was still casual sex. She doesn’t remember him ever trying to turn it into anything else, probably because she’s not cool enough.</p><p>Wait. She knows this bouncy dork better now. He's not himself cool, nor does he really seem to value coolness at all.</p><p>Okay, then, he didn’t make a move because she’s a wreck.</p><p>But he’s never seemed to mind that. And he’s kind of a wreck too.</p><p>Okay, he just wasn’t interested in anything but sex. He doesn’t need a reason to not be into her.</p><p>Still, she can’t help but notice that he’s not on the top of his game for the rest of rehearsal. And afterwards, when she tries to flee so she can go sort out her thoughts, he catches her at the door.</p><p>“Did I do something when… to make you feel uncomfortable or disrespected or something?” he asks, pained.</p><p>Seriously, how did she think he was a fuckboy? He’s so nervous and upset over <i>her</i> misunderstanding.</p><p>“No!” Her voice comes out too loud. “No, I just… misinterpreted some stuff.” But she can’t look at him, because right now reality is shifting under her feet and whatever he’s doing with his face will probably just confuse her more.</p><p>“Are we okay?” he asks quietly, his voice fragile.</p><p>“Yeah, we’re great.” His voice is so concerned that she finally meets his eyes to give him an encouraging smile. The corner of his lip curls up, small and nervous, and she’s overwhelmed with the urge to kiss it better.</p><p>Oh, fuck. She’s really not succeeding at this “not being interested in him” thing, is she?</p>
<hr/><p>Her takeaway should be “hey, I misinterpreted some stuff, but it doesn’t matter anyways.” But now that the fuckboy thing is gone, it strips away her last defense, her last reason to not be really into him. Because she doesn’t respect fuckboys, but she respects the hell out of Luke. And now it’s like he becomes a real person in front of her eyes and she doesn’t know how to stop the inevitable.</p><p>She always thought that love came in a single big realization, because that’s how romance novels tended to talk about it. Everyone else she’s been interested in, it’s felt like that—dramatic and frantic and overwhelming. Like everything that was happening was the end of the world. Luke doesn’t feel like that. He just slots easily into her life and her heart like he was always meant to be there. Like he’s never not been there. Her feelings come over her slowly, gently, over time, in the moments where her heart begins to whisper louder and louder.</p><p>Like the time the guys are two hours late to band practice and she’s sitting in their house trying to get homework done, but really seething with rage, and they finally run in.</p><p>“I’m so so sorry,” Luke gushes immediately. “We were taking a lot of video at the protest, so our phones all died, and we lost track of time, and then there was an accident on the 110 and it was just a fucking mess.”</p><p>“Protest…?”</p><p>Only then does she notice his shirt. A cutoff that reads “Fuck ICE.”</p><p>She blinks, taking it in. It’s a reminder that, while she sometimes catches herself sulking over the idea that Luke only cares about her for her music, she also tends to reduce him in her mind to being a guitarist, singer, and songwriter. Maybe she should be paying more attention to the non-musical parts of him. </p><p>“Fuck ICE?” she asks.</p><p>Luke flashes a smile. “Say it loud and say it clear.”</p><p>Reggie heads toward the stairs, and Julie clocks his “No Human is Illegal” shirt. “I need to wash off the sweat and rage, and then we’ll rehearse.”</p><p>“Shower, not bath. We’re rehearsing <i>today</i>,” Alex insists as he wanders off to his own room.</p><p>Luke shakes his head at them and heads toward the kitchen. As he starts to assemble a cheese and pickle sandwich, Julie drifts in after him.</p><p>“I guess I didn’t picture you as an immigration activist,” she confesses.</p><p>“Not an activist, just an angry body.” Luke slices the cheese. “But, you know. It’s, like, one of the worst things a voting citizen in any country can do, right? Not pay attention to how immigrants are being treated.”</p><p>Being furious about their immigration system is the bare minimum she requires of the people in her life, but so many people care about immigration in a performative, generic way and here Luke is being actually informed and properly angry.</p><p>He eyes her for a second, then gestures at the shirt. “Assuming we’re on the same page about this?” There’s something to the way he says it that makes her smile, like he’ll kick her out of the band in a second if they’re not on the same page. A little voice in her heart whispers, <i>I love you.</i></p><p>“Fuck ICE. Fuck Section 1325,” she agrees.</p><p>He beams. “Fuck 1325.” He cuts the sandwich and offers her half.</p><p>As she takes her sandwich, she forces her gaze away and tries to silence that voice in her heart. He’s her friend, and she’s only known him four months. She doesn’t love him.</p>
<hr/><p>The next week, she arrives for what’s meant to be an evening writing session with Luke, only to find Reggie sulking in the garage, curled up on the floor with his back against the couch and Alex and Luke sitting on either side of him. It looks like they got distracted by feelings mid-practice, because Reggie still has his bass around his neck and Luke’s holding his acoustic guitar.</p><p>“I’m going to die alone,” Reggie is groaning.</p><p>“Reg, you’re 20. It’s a bit early to call time of death on your love life,” Alex replies.</p><p>“Easy for you to say. You’re in a textship with Willie.”</p><p>“… what’s a textship?”</p><p>“You know, it’s where you’re pretending that you’re friends, but every time they text you, you make those little faces, and you text each other way too much for it to be platonic.”</p><p>Alex closes up his face a bit. “That’s… not a thing.”</p><p>“If you text a guy more than me and Luke, it’s a textship.”</p><p>“Gotta agree with Reg here,” Luke nods.</p><p>“I don’t—” Alex’s phone buzzes loudly. Both Luke and Reggie raise their eyebrows. Alex glances at the screen and the corner of his mouth turns up at whatever it says. Then he quickly silences it and tucks it into his pocket.</p><p>“Willie?” Julie asks teasingly, announcing her presence.</p><p>“Not you too,” Alex sighs. But he grins at her before turning back to the bassist. “Reggie, everyone here is single.” The others raise their eyebrows at him. “Okay, everyone here is <i>technically</i> single. So if you’re worried that you’re the only one alone, you’re being silly.”</p><p>“But it’s not the same,” Reggie insists. “Luke is… actually, when was the last time you went on a date?”</p><p>Luke bites his lip and hesitates, and suddenly Julie is desperate to know the answer. Or, more specifically, desperate to know why. “I don’t really date. You know me.”</p><p>“Yeah, you do that thing where you always befriend people first,” Alex observes.</p><p>Julie’s not sure if she imagines the way Luke's jaw tenses, but all he says is, “I’m not interested in dating strangers. I don’t put myself out there like that, so I don’t get rejected.” He nudges Reggie’s arm. “If I did, I would.”</p><p>Reggie pouts like he doesn’t believe it. (Julie kind of agrees with Reggie.)</p><p>But she steps forward, snagging Reggie’s attention. “And what about me? I’m single.”</p><p>He doesn’t even look at her. “That’s because you’re a goddess who has not yet found the worthy mortal who deserves your affection.”</p><p>Alex nods. “Strong agree.”</p><p>She knows she shouldn’t, but she glances at Luke. He twists his mouth up in a way she doesn’t understand, and nods. Something about his face makes her heart pang.</p><p>Julie collapses on the sofa behind them. “What’s going on? Why is Reggie acting like Eeyore?”</p><p>“This guy dumped me.”</p><p>“It was one date,” Alex whispers.</p><p>“After months of lots of ‘one date’s! Maybe I’m just not built for love. Maybe I should seal up my heart and put it out to sea.”</p><p>A laugh bursts out of Luke. Alex shoots the guitarist a cutting look.</p><p>“No, sorry, I’m not laughing <i>at</i> Reg. It’s just very…” Luke trails off, then slips a capo onto the fifth fret of his guitar and starts strumming the opening to “I Am a Rock.”</p><p>Reggie immediately pouts. “I do <i>not</i> sound like that.”</p><p>Glancing at each other, Alex and Julie nod and say, “You do.”</p><p>“I do not!”</p><p>Luke begins singing, leaning his head back and making dramatic sad faces. Julie dissolves into giggles.</p><p>
  <i>A winter's day<br/>
In a deep and dark December<br/>
I am alooooone</i>
</p><p>“That’s not what I sound like!” Reggie insists. Shaking his head, Alex takes over the verse.</p><p>
  <i>Gazing from my window to the streets below<br/>
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow</i>
</p><p>Luke, Julie, and Alex all sing the chorus together, warbling their voices comically and ignoring Reggie’s indignant protests.</p><p>
  <i>I am a rock, I am an island</i>
</p><p>Seeing the reluctant smile emerging on Reggie’s face, Julie wraps her arms around his shoulders from her spot on the couch.</p><p>
  <i>I've built walls<br/>
A fortress deep and mighty<br/>
That none may penetrate</i>
</p><p>Reggie sticks his tongue out and begins defiantly singing over them.</p><p>
  <i>I have no need of friendship<br/>
Friendship causes pain</i>
</p><p>But he can’t keep up his outrage, and dissolves into giggles on the next line.</p><p>
  <i>It's laughter and it's loving I disdain</i>
</p><p>Barely controlling their laughter, the other three come in for the chorus again.</p><p>
  <i>I am a rock, I am an island</i>
</p><p>Reggie, now resigned to the melodrama, smacks a hand to his heart as he sings the next verse.</p><p>
  <i>Don't talk of love<br/>
Well, I've heard the word before</i>
</p><p>Julie feels her gaze drift to Luke as Reggie sings and she's infinitely grateful that, in her spot behind them on the couch, the others can’t see her.</p><p>
  <i>It's sleeping in my memory<br/>
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died<br/>
If I never loved, I never would have cried</i>
</p><p>The whole band sings the chorus, and then continues to the verse. By now, Alex, Julie, and Reggie are all making wild hand gestures to emphasize the sarcastic depths of their tragedy.</p><p>
  <i>I am a rock, I am an island<br/>
I have my books<br/>
And my poetry to protect me<br/>
I am shielded in my armor</i>
</p><p>Even though the point they’re making is that Reggie is being overdramatic, she notes with a brief pang of shame how true the lines have become—how often do she and Luke bury themselves in lyrics to avoid having to face the things they feel?</p><p>
  <i>Hiding in my room, safe within my womb<br/>
I touch no one, and no one touches me</i>
</p><p>With a laugh, Luke leans his head on Reggie’s shoulder and Alex throws his arm around the bassist.</p><p>
  <i>I am a rock, I am an island</i>
</p><p>Everyone else falls silent, allowing Reggie to do a very dramatic rendition of the final lines, his voice trembling comically.</p><p>
  <i>And a rock feels no pain<br/>
And an island never cries</i>
</p><p>Luke plucks the final notes on the guitar, exaggerating the hammer-on pull-offs. The four bandmates collapse into giggles. Julie squeezes Alex’s shoulder with one hand and Luke’s with the other, and she drops her chin on Reggie’s free shoulder.</p><p>For a moment, she just enjoys the feeling of the group hug, the sense of family and warmth.</p><p>“Wait a minute…” Reggie studies Luke suspiciously. “Did you just use Simon &amp; Garfunkel to get me out of my funk?”</p><p>“To get you out of your Garfunkel,” Alex giggles. Julie rolls her eyes fondly as she pulls back from the hug.</p><p>As he leaps to his feet, Luke flashes Reggie a giant grin. “Yep.” He sets his guitar on its stand, then glances back. He keeps his face relaxed, but she can see the tension in his eyes as he asks, “Did it work?”</p><p>“You know what? Yes.”</p><p>Luke beams at his friend and Julie’s heart immediately whispers again, more loudly, <i>I love you.</i></p><p>Shut up!</p><p>She nudges Reggie. “I know that wasn’t the point of this exercise, but there’s a girl in vocal arts with me who you might hit it off with. Do you want me to invite her to the next garage party?”</p><p>Reggie clasps his hands together in mock prayer and leans his head back on the couch to look her in the eyes. “See above, re: you are a goddess.”</p><p>“I gotchya.”</p><p>As she grabs her phone to message Kayla, she glances up to see Luke gazing at her with this soft warmth in his eyes that feels like an intense smile even though his mouth doesn’t move. </p><p>It’s the same look he’ll have on his face three weeks later when he tells her to date someone who says she’s extraordinary. Both times, it brings out the same reaction in her, a stumbling nervousness in her heart that struggles to come to terms with the simple, small idea that he sometimes might, maybe, possibly, slightly like her in a way he shouldn’t. Not as much as she likes him—there’s no way he feels the same way. But maybe she’s not completely alone in this confusing nebulous space between bandmates and whatever they used to be.</p>
<hr/><p>Given the band and the exhausting emotional marathon that has been the past year, Julie almost thinks about cancelling her plans to study abroad for a semester next year. She doesn’t think anyone will notice her change in plans, but Flynn comes home from the study abroad fair that Julie skipped and very sternly dumps an armload of brochures on her bed.</p><p>“You always wanted to do this for yourself. Don’t lose yourself in the band.” Julie wants to say something defensive, but Flynn follows it up with, “Your mom said she wanted you to study abroad” and Julie can’t argue with that.</p><p>So she’s curled up on the couch in the garage with a brochure on her lap, scrolling through a list of potential classes online when Luke collapses on the couch next to her. “Royal Northern College of Music?”</p><p>“Study abroad.” She glances over, not sure if she should feel guilty about having the chance to do it, but he just smiles and nods.</p><p>“The Princess is going to a Royal College. Makes sense.” She sticks her tongue out at him, then looks around at the guys.</p><p>“Is that okay? Me taking off for five months?”</p><p>Plopping behind his drum kit, Alex raises an eyebrow and drawls sarcastically, “No, Julie, don’t have a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The band comes first.”</p><p>“Where is this place?” Reggie asks, not taking his eyes off the bass he’s restringing.</p><p>“Manchester.”</p><p>Luke lights up. “Ooh, can we visit?”</p><p>She tries to stamp down the part of her that feels giddy at the offer, the part of her that’s been thinking about how much she’s going to miss her best friends while she’s gone. “You wanna come to Manchester?”</p><p>“What’s in Manchester?” Alex asks.</p><p>“A man named Chester!” Reggie pipes up.</p><p>Alex shakes his head firmly. “That’s not—okay.”</p><p>But Julie studies Luke. “You really want to come?”</p><p>He rubs the back of his head. “I’m sure Manchester is cool. I assume you’re going to have that study abroad kid thing where you decide that the city you studied in is the best city in the world and you’ll want to show off all your favorite places.”</p><p>She tries not to dwell on the use of “kid,” and instead focuses on the eagerness of his face. “But you’re not visiting for Manchester.”</p><p>“Visiting for you.” Then a guilty smile slips over his face. “But also, Manchester’s not too far from one of the UNESCO Cities of Music.”</p><p>Oh, that makes sense. “You want to go to Liverpool?”</p><p>“Liverpool?” Luke makes a face. “What did Liverpool ever do for rock music?”</p><p>The entire room goes silent.</p><p>It’s Reggie of all people who clears his throat and answers. “Um, Luke. The Beatles.”</p><p>“Pfft.”</p><p>The silence somehow becomes louder. Alex’s eyes bug. “Luke, we are in a <i>rock band</i>. You can’t ‘pfft’ the Beatles. Someone might hear you!”</p><p>“The Beatles are… fine,” Luke shrugs.</p><p>Reggie looks like he’s being choked by a ghost. “FINE???”</p><p>“Okay, look, we can go to Liverpool too, but I’m talking about Glasgow.”</p><p>It’s just one of many small moments that makes Julie feel an acute sadness over the fact that her mother never met Luke. She feels like they would have gotten along like a house on fire.</p><p>She pushes aside the longing in her chest. “I guess that makes sense. Glasgow’s rock scene seems more your style.”</p><p>“It’s the dream. That’s when we’ll know we’ve made it.”</p><p>“… why Glasgow?”</p><p>Luke nods at the guys, and the three of them chant rhythmically, “Here we, here we, here we fucking go.”</p><p>Everything in Julie stops.</p><p>The mystery of her mom’s life advice has sat in the back of her mind for six years, and for the past eleven months, it’s felt like a woodpecker jabbing away at her, a constant, stabbing reminder of things her mother will never be able to tell her. Conversations unhad and moments unexperienced. </p><p>She never thought she might actually find an answer.</p><p>“What does that mean?” she asks quickly, hoping her voice doesn’t come out too frantic.</p><p>“It’s something Glasgow crowds chant,” Luke explains. “Usually at the beginning of a gig or a song, but sometimes in the middle of a song if there’s a long instrumental section.”</p><p>That… doesn’t explain anything. Why would her mother think <i>that</i> was the most important life lesson she’s ever learned? There has to be more to it than that. “But why?”</p><p>Luke shrugs. “Dunno. Gets everyone hyped up.”</p><p>“It sounds really cool in videos,” Reggie grins.</p><p>“And that’s the dream? Not, like, Madison Square Garden?” she asks.</p><p>Alex waves his hands. “Don’t look at me. ‘Glasgow is the pinnacle of our career’ is Luke’s thing.”</p><p>She glances over at the guitarist, who shakes his head. “Okay, don’t get me wrong—the Garden would be fucking killer. But being in a roomful of people who are so psyched to hear you perform that they’re chanting at you like that, and totally clicked into the music in that way? If it’s a choice between the Garden and some basement venue in Glasgow with twenty Scots screaming ‘here we fucking go’ at us—no contest.”</p><p>It’s such a Luke answer that, once again, her heart says <i>I love you</i>. But Julie’s too stunned this time to tell it to shut up.</p><p>Alex raises an eyebrow. “You know there are big venues in Glasgow, right? Aim higher.”</p><p>“It’s not about the size; it’s about the enthusiasm!”</p><p>Reggie giggles loudly and Alex sighs. Realizing what he’s said, Luke opens his mouth to correct himself, but Julie beats him to the punch. “It’s not about the size; it’s about the enthusiasm: title of your sex tape.”</p><p>Luke’s face turns bright pink and he refuses to look at her. “See if I visit you in Manchester,” he mutters petulantly.</p><p>But the next time they hang out, his phone gets an alert from a flight price tracking app, and she has a hard time hiding her grin.</p>
<hr/><p>Those first couple months are so overwhelmed by the band that, in retrospect, it’s hard to remember that other stuff is happening. That she can get on stage by herself but still can’t sing alone, that her ability to sing in class is still inconsistent, that she’s incapable of even thinking about music for long periods of time without feeling like her mother is hovering over her shoulder.</p><p>When she and Flynn have a girls night, sprawled together on their living room couch watching <i>Sex Education</i>, Flynn keeps giving her Those Looks.</p><p>“What?” Julie asks.</p><p>“Nothing.” But Julie knows what “nothing” means. She pauses the show and turns to her best friend, gesturing for her to speak. Flynn sighs and bites her lip. “Have you… given up on being a soloist?”</p><p>“I’m in the band now.”</p><p>“Musicians can do multiple things at once.”</p><p>Julie groans. She’s stopped trying to get on stage by herself, because some part of her is convinced that getting on stage to sing songs she’s written is close enough. But a bigger part of her is terrified. Maybe even more so now than she was back in August when she first took the mic from Luke. She knows she can sing on stage. But she’s not convinced she can do it by herself, and what does that say about her?</p><p>“Do I need to be a soloist?” she asks her feet.</p><p>“No, I just… don’t want you to forget who Julie is as a musician. Or to forget that you can make music on your own.”</p><p>“You don’t like the band?”</p><p>“I love the band and I love the music you do together, you know that. That’s why I want your relationship with them to be healthy, not co-dependent.”</p><p>Trying to ignore how often she’s had similar thoughts, Julie shakes her head. “It’s not co-dependent.” Flynn doesn’t look convinced. “<i>It’s not.</i>”</p><p>Flynn sighs, like she’s worried this might veer into a fight, and just turns the show back on.</p><p>But the worry that Julie’s been trying to ignore has now exploded in her gut and she doesn’t know to silence it.</p>
<hr/><p>That night, alone in her room, she goes to YouTube and searches for “here we, here we, here we fucking go.” She’s surprised by the number of videos that come up—hell, there’s even a shorthand for it, “the hwfg chant”—and she’s immediately embarrassed. She had assumed this was some sort of obscure, dense mystery, but here it is all over the internet. If she’d just googled it…</p><p>But she listens to video after video, different crowds chanting the same phrase at different bands, and she still doesn’t get it. <i>I learned the most important lesson of my life playing gigs in Glasgow. </i>What lesson, Mom?? All at once, Julie feels acutely frustrated. Why did her mom have to be vague? Why couldn’t she have just explained what she meant? Why had she been so sure that Julie would just <i>know</i>?</p><p>She watches one video, taken from the center of a packed crowd, and she tries to picture herself there in the middle of all the chaos and cheering. For a moment, her mother is by her side, the two Molina women chanting gleefully. But she’ll never get to experience that, and it sends a stab through her gut, so she replaces the image of her mother with her bandmates, beaming and screaming the words at one another. Then they’re replaced by Flynn, laughing and bemused, but getting into the cheering.</p><p>None of that clears up the mystery.</p><p>
  <i>Mom, what the hell did you learn from this?</i>
</p><p>It’s unusual for her mom—Rose Molina was normally so direct, not given to beating around the bush. Why had this been different?</p><p>Or was that the point? Had her mother not wanted to give her the answer because there <i>was</i> no specific answer? Her mother had always encouraged her to forge her own relationship with music. Maybe this was another part of that. Maybe she’d been profoundly moved by the experience of the hwfg chant, and she found meaning in it, and she thought Julie would find her own meaning. </p><p>For Luke, hwfg is about connecting with the audience. For her mother… well, Julie will never know what it meant to her mother. All she can do is figure out what it means to her.</p><p>All her loved ones disappear from her mental picture, and Julie’s alone in the crowd, screaming at the stage. It’s fun, but it still doesn’t mean that much, and then she remembers that she’s in the wrong place. She’s not supposed to be in the crowd. She’s supposed to be on the stage.</p><p>She puts herself in that moment, tentatively stepping out on stage by herself, staring at the packed, rowdy audience. Even in her imagination, she can’t squash the flicker of fear, the urge to run off stage.</p><p>But then the crowd starts chanting, and it feels a bit like the rhythm of a train rushing forward, like she’s being propelled by thousands of synced voices. It doesn’t matter if she wants to fall silent or run off stage. The train is going and it can’t be stopped. The moment she takes the stage, she’s going to perform—it’s inevitable—the whole crowd is there with her, urging her on, pushing her forward, keeping her in the moment. <i>Here we, here we, here we fucking go</i>: once she’s at the mic, there is no exit.</p><p>So the question isn’t “will she sing once she’s on stage?” The question is “will she get on stage?”</p><p>Not “will she perform?” But “is she a fucking musician?”</p><p>And she’s been a musician since the day she was born.</p><p>Her eyes drift over to the journal where she keeps “Wake Up.” She slowly takes out the sheets of music and places them on the bed in front of her.</p><p>Reading over the first vocal line, she tries to sing. But she can picture her mother there all too clearly, like she’s just appeared in Julie’s desk chair, silently watching her daughter. It’s too much.</p><p>So Julie clicks play on one of the hwfg videos, and she lets the chant wash over her. She closes her eyes and tries to shove the image of her mother and her room out of her mind, instead focusing on the image of herself alone on the stage.</p><p>Here we, here we, here we fucking go. Here we, here we, here we fucking go. Here we, here we, here we fucking go. Here we, here we, here we fucking go. Here we, here we, here we fucking go.</p><p>She lets herself get lost in the rhythm of the chant, the energy ramping up through her body, the voices driving her forward, and when the video finally ends, she opens her mouth and sings the first line into the silence of her room.</p><p>
  <i>Here’s one thing I want you to know</i>
</p><p>Her eyes open with surprise, and she frantically finds the next line on the page. She sings it, and then the next line, and then the next, and then the next until the whole song is all out of her.</p><p>Sans piano, and sung with a trembling, quiet voice in the middle of the night, backed by a chant that doesn’t at all match the rhythm or tone or style of “Wake Up.” But it’s out of her, and in this moment, it’s hers and hers alone. No one at her side, no one watching her.</p><p>She bursts into tears, and she’s not sure whether she’s delighted or miserable, but for the first time in a long time, the guilt goes silent and the rage stills and she can actually breathe.</p>
<hr/><p>At first, she doesn’t plan to sing “Wake Up” in public anytime soon. That’s the ultimate step, the final test, and she’s not sure whether she’s ready for it.</p><p>But then Luke tells her the date of their next open mic. It’s one of her anniversaries with her mother, but not the kind she’d observe with the rest of her family. The kind of quiet anniversary that only she knows, that only she’s invested in. It’s the anniversary of the last good day she and her mother had together, when they got tacos at Guisados and strolled slowly around the Echo Park Lake talking about absolutely nothing.</p><p>It feels like the right day to sing "Wake Up."</p><p>Julie doesn’t hesitate when she steps onto the stage or when she sits behind the keyboard. She doesn’t let herself hesitate. <i>Here we fucking go.</i> Get on the stage, and the rest is inevitable.</p><p>As she eyes the keyboard in front of her, she feels her mother’s gaze from the audience, and she almost looks up. But no. Her mother may have taught her to play, taught her to sing, taught her to write. Her mother even wrote this song. But it’s Julie’s journey now, her relationship with music, and it has to be hers alone.</p><p>Six months ago, that would have made her feel devastatingly lonely, but now, for the first time, it makes her feel in control.</p><p>She exhales firmly, nods to herself, and starts to play.</p><p>The words and notes blur in her mind. She’s trying to keep her fingers focused on the keys, trying to keep her mind on her breath and her vocal control, trying to keep herself in the moment.</p><p>When she gets to the end of the first verse, she takes a breath, and she’s suddenly hit by the memory of her mother. “Deep breath, from the diaphragm.” For a moment, Julie can’t feel her voice in her throat, and she thinks she can’t keep going. How can she hit the high notes and the power of the chorus without her mom?</p><p>But she’s on the train. There’s no choice now. <i>Here we, here we, here we fucking go.</i></p><p>The chorus rips out of her throat, and it’s like she’s opening a vault of bliss in her heart, like her voice got locked away six months ago with a small stockpile of joy and it all floods through her when she finally wrenches the door open.</p><p>She’s home, she’s fucking home.</p><p>She’s not sure when she stands up, because it’s not a conscious decision. The only thing that exists is this song and this piano and her voice.</p><p>As she gets to the bridge, she fixes her eyes to the sky, singing to her mother. Not the mother who watches from the bench beside her or from the crowd. Not the ghost of her mother who she’s felt haunting her music for the past six months. Not Rose Molina the musician or the music instructor or the writing partner. Rose Molina, her mother, gently watching over her.</p><p>Julie’s so lost in the music and the bliss of unleashing her full voice that she only notices that she’s finished when the crowd begins applauding. She pulls herself from her reverie and turns out to them with a smile. Dazed, she bows and staggers off stage.</p><p>When she makes her way through the crowd looking for her friends, she’s surprised to see them tucked in a corner, their eyes all shining brightly.</p><p>Flynn rushes forward first, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re my fucking hero, Jules.”</p><p>“I couldn’t do it without you.”</p><p>“Of course you could. You literally just did.” Flynn pulls back, looks at Julie’s face, and shakes her head firmly. “No, don’t you start crying. We literally only just stopped.”</p><p>Julie lets out a wet laugh and rubs away the tears that are forming in her eyes.</p><p>“Me next!” Reggie insists and gives her a quick hug. “Once again, you’ve proven yourself as a goddess.”</p><p>“Thanks, Reg.”</p><p>Alex grins as he swoops in for the next hug. “What he said.”</p><p>Then she finally turns to Luke. He gives her a weirdly shy grin, and she’s startled by how red-rimmed his eyes are. He folds her into the biggest hug, squeezing her tightly. “You’re extraordinary,” he whispers in her ear, his voice cracking, and her whole body shivers.</p><p><i>I love you</i>, her heart says, and she doesn’t have the energy to shove it away.</p><p>“Not bad for the Thornton Princess?” she whispers back, trying to lighten the mood.</p><p>“Thornton Queen. I got your title wrong.”</p><p>She buries her face in his shoulder for a moment. She knows she needs to break the hug because it’s gone on longer even than the one Flynn gave her and nothing about it feels platonic, but she can’t bring herself to leave the circle of his arms.</p><p>“Okay, we need to celebrate!” Flynn cries, and Julie reluctantly pulls away. “What do you want to eat?”</p>
<hr/><p>As she and Flynn drive back to campus after their victory dinner, Flynn turns down the radio and says the last thing Julie is expecting. “Okay, I just have to ask. In the fall, you said that Luke wasn’t interested in you. Were you basing that on something?”</p><p>“What evidence does anyone ever have that someone isn’t interested? He just… wasn’t.” But Julie’s starting to get that itchy feeling she gets when she’s writing an essay for class and her gut starts screaming that her argument is weak, that it’s veering from logic, that it’s fundamentally flawed.</p><p>What was it Luke had said? “Date someone who says you’re extraordinary.” </p><p>Flynn twitches her neck for a second, like she’d be turning to give Julie an incredulous look if she didn’t need her eyes on the road. “Look, I was never a big Luke fan because he was a dick to you the first few times you met.”</p><p>“I explained—”</p><p>“And we really don’t need to rehash it because we’re just gonna have to agree to disagree. But… that boy was a mess tonight. Like, I thought Alex and I were going to be the emotional ones, but Luke was <i>utterly wrecked</i>. And I have a hard time believing that he would have been that affected if what he felt for you was strictly platonic.”</p><p>Julie’s heart warms and she remembers the feel of his hug and his whisper in her ear, but she still can’t really believe it. She thinks he might sometimes have non-platonic feelings towards her, probably a confused remnant from all the times they hooked up. But there’s no way he’s as into her as she is into him. It’s not possible. He would be more affected by her presence. He would have made a move in the fall. He would have said or done <i>something</i>.</p><p>She forces a casual shrug. “He’s always been my number one hype man when it comes to performing.”</p><p>“And I always assumed that was because his one personality trait is music.”</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“I said what I said,” Flynn insists, though she’s laughing. “But I don’t know. I’m not convinced it’s one-sided.”</p><p>“I never said I was interested in him.”</p><p>Her best friend doesn’t actually roll her eyes, but her tone gets the message across. “Jules.”</p><p>Julie tucks her feet up on the seat and rests her chin on her knees, sighing. “It doesn’t matter anyways. We’re in the band together. We can’t mess with that.” Luke would never risk their band like that. <i>Nothing’s more important than the band.</i></p><p>Flynn sighs. “Then you know I’m gonna keep pushing the Nick thing, right? Cause pining isn’t healthy. I don’t want that for you.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Or for Luke.”</p><p>The silence sits there for a moment, then Flynn says, “But I want it on the record: I think ‘the band’ is an excuse.”</p>
<hr/><p>The next night, as they perform at their weekly garage party, Julie feels light in a way she hasn’t in ages. Like the caged music inside of her was weighing her down, and now her shoulders feel buoyant. She swears she’s even standing up straighter.</p><p>She doesn’t think it’s permanent—reality will hit her soon, and singing will feel normal, instead of this glorious, bright, shining thing. But right now, she feels invincible.</p><p>Seeing Carrie appearing at the edge of the crowd halfway through the night is a jolt, and she worries for a second that the familiar eyes on her will throw her off of her game. But no. She’s already up here, already behind the mic. Here we fucking go.</p><p>Luke taps her foot with his when they break between songs, and swings his eyes in Carrie’s direction. “You wanna do a spite number?”</p><p>How does he remember Carrie from that one encounter almost six months ago? She grins back. “I only do those for you.” But there is part of her—not driven by spite, but by that basking glow of confidence—that does wants to unleash herself a bit. “Do you know any Ndidi O?” she asks.</p><p>She doesn’t even need to specify what song she’s talking about. Luke immediately grins. “Owning your royal title?”</p><p>“Is it going to make me seem egotistical?”</p><p>“Nah. It’s about a damn time.” He gives her that awed look and she wonders, for just a moment, if he’s looking at her like that not because she’s a singer, but because she’s her.</p><p>He goes to tell the guys what song they’re playing next, and she steps up to the mic. But she wants another backup vocalist in the mix, hitting higher notes than the guys can. And there’s only one person she wants by her side for this song. She reaches out her hand to Flynn and waggles a “come hither” finger. Her friend looks temporarily surprised, but then she beams and skips over to share Reggie’s mic as the guys begin to play.</p><p>As Julie opens her mouth to sing, she finds her voice sitting there, just waiting to soar out, and it rings through every part of her body as she starts the first verse. Her voice is home. <i>She’s</i> home.</p><p>
  <i>Been called an angel and a devil since the dawn of time<br/>
Been called a sweetheart and the apple of your eye<br/>
Been called a vixen and a tramp and everything between<br/>
Been called all kinds of things, never what I seem</i>
</p><p>She shoots Flynn a grin. Her friend yells, “Yessss!” off mic.</p><p>
  <i>But you can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>Pulling the mic out of the stand, Julie begins to strut across the garage. Luke does a bouncy walk, so she’s allowed a strut. She’s a performer, and she’s chasing a musical high.</p><p>
  <i>You can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>Pausing in front of Luke, she sings to him, and a wicked grin crosses his face as he bows his head to her.</p><p>
  <i>You can call me Queen<br/>
You can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>But there’s something missing in this performance. Julie nods Flynn over to her and holds out her mic, switching to singing the backup vocals. Flynn shoots her a sweet smile, then takes the second verse, facing the crowd with the righteous attitude that the song deserves.</p><p>
  <i>Been called mother and a sister since the dawn of the time<br/>
Been called trouble maker, I don't every stay in line<br/>
Been called selfish cuz I don't play well on teams<br/>
Been called all kinds of things, never what I seem<br/>
But you can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>Julie grins and curtsies to her friend.</p><p>
  <i>You can call me Queen<br/>
You can call me Queen<br/>
You can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>As the song comes to a close, the two girls yell the final words to each other.</p><p>
  <i>Queen</i><br/>
<i>Queen</i><br/>
<i>Queen</i><br/>
</p><p>Flynn hands Julie the mic for the last line.</p><p>
  <i>You can call me Queen</i>
</p><p>As the crowd cheers, Julie turns back to her best friend and rests their foreheads together for a second with a grin.</p><p>“You’re the best.”</p><p>“So are you,” Flynn grins back, then slides the mic back into the stand and tugs Julie out into the crowd.</p><p>This isn’t the end of her musical struggles, but here in this garage, simultaneously surrounded and supported by everyone she loves while also knowing that she doesn’t <i>need</i> them in order to take the mic, she feels like she’s finally found herself again. After a long, winding journey trapped in the misery of her own soul, she’s rediscovered Julie.</p><p>And it feels really fucking good.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs/musical references in this chapter:<br/>• "Like a Girl" by Lizzo<br/>• "I Am a Rock" by Simon &amp; Garfunkel<br/>• The hwfg chant (<a href="https://youtu.be/Tj9840wc_tY?t=14">here</a>’s an example, but if you want to get a sense of what it sounds like during a song, “Started in My Head” by Patent Pending has the chant in multiple sections.)<br/>• "Wake Up"<br/>• "Call Me Queen" by Ndidi O<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Coming To Terms With A Broken Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Good Things Fall Apart" by Jon Bellion and ILLENIUM</p><p>Playlist is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xEvzpxtP9cjH28EqujXOk?si=qPF4FFPWQO2heUcXzo7DYg">here</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the anniversary of her mother’s death, Julie’s been lying awake for hours, unable to shut her brain off or silence the unwanted memories playing behind her eyes or quiet the churning emotions in her chest.</p><p>The sound of drunk partygoers laughing and cheering as they pass on the sidewalk outside buzzes in her ears, making her feel that much more separate and alone. How weird that people can experience joy in a world without her mother in it. Julie pulls a pillow over her head, trying to block out the noise and the faint glow of the street lights. But it doesn’t help. She screams softly into the pillow, that old, familiar rage licking in her gut.</p><p>She desperately wants to step out of her brain for a bit, and the only two ways she knows to do that are sleep and sex. But she can’t sleep, and she’s not going to spend this night of all nights on Tinder.</p><p><i>There is one other possibility</i>, her heart whispers. She glances at her phone. 2:30 am. Campus cruiser, the university’s rideshare service, is still running if she hurries. Maybe she should text Luke to give him advanced warning but… she knows he’ll be awake. And what would she even text? “you up?” Absolutely not.</p><p>She’ll just risk it.</p>
<hr/><p>A strange alarm wakes her, and she’s tempted to ignore it, but then she realizes that there’s an unfamiliar feeling under her head and a too familiar scent in her nose. The feel of Luke’s shoulder and the smell of his Lukeness, tinged faintly with vanilla.</p><p>Without opening her eyes, she takes stock of her body. She fell asleep cuddled into him and it seems like they didn’t really move as they slept, because here they still are, his body firm under hers and his arm around her shoulder, hugging her into him. Part of her wants to pretend to still be asleep so she can prolong the moment. But she can already feel him moving under her.</p><p>Reluctantly, she dislodges her head. Luke blinks down at her like he’s never seen the sun before. But while she takes hours to wake up even after a full night of sleep, he’s apparently one of those people who boots up immediately. “Morning,” he murmurs, his bright eyes lingering on her face.</p><p>She stares back, trying to memorize his rumpled face and bedhead, the dozy softness of his eyes, the rasp of his sleep-laden voice. “Is it?”</p><p>“Well, afternoon, I guess.” He gently extricates himself from her, pulls on his shoes, and pops to his feet.</p><p>She sits up and groans at even the idea of being conscious. “How are you so awake?”</p><p>“I’m not. I’m gonna crash again after I drop you off at your place.”</p><p>“Oh, you don’t have to…”</p><p>“Unless you want your dad to pick you up here in clothes you clearly slept in?” he points out gently.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Yeah.</p><p>As she collects her stuff, he holds out her notebook. She takes it and stares down at the completed song on the open pages.</p><p>Running her fingers over the scribbled notes, she delights in every indent the pen left on the paper. She actually finished it. <i>They</i> finished it. She hugs the notebook into her chest and glances up at Luke. He’s watching her with an inscrutable expression and, for a second, she feels that itchy twinge in her gut as she remembers how easily he rejected her the night before. (<i>Because he’s a decent person</i>, whispers a voice she ignores.) But he helped her finish her mom’s song, and that’s infinitely more important.</p><p>She bundles herself into his car, yawning aggressively the whole drive back to her place. When he pulls up in the red zone to let her out, she looks over at him. “Get out for a moment?”</p><p>“Red zone—“</p><p>“Just for a moment.”</p><p>They get out of the car, his face wrinkled in confusion until she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. He immediately hugs her back and rests his head on top of hers.</p><p>“Don’t tell Flynn,” she admits to his chest, refusing to meet his eyes, “but you’re tied for my favorite person.”</p><p>She feels his laugh rumble through him. But his voice is much softer than she expects when he replies, “You’re tied for my favorite too.”</p><p><i>I love you</i>, her heart insists. And her heart means it both romantically and platonically, so Julie mumbles, as platonically as possible, “Love you.”</p><p>There’s a pause before he whispers back, “Love you too.”</p>
<hr/><p>A couple days later, Julie wanders into the kitchen of her family home to catch her dad watching a clip from the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube channel. He pauses at the end of “Finally Free” and at first she thinks he’s appreciating her high note. But then he turns to her, like she’s been keeping something from him, and asks, “Who’s Luke?”</p><p>“The guitarist…? I’ve told you about Luke.”</p><p>“I know who he is in your band. But…” He points to Luke’s face.</p><p>Confused, she shrugs. “It’s his face?”</p><p>“That looks normal to you?” Her father’s mouth tenses like he’s trying to contain a grin at a joke she’s not understanding.</p><p>“That’s just how Luke looks.”</p><p>Her father raises an eyebrow. Her stomach drops for a second, worried that her father has somehow figured out that she’s had sex. But all he asks is “Do you like him?”</p><p>Her impulse is to pretend to misunderstand the question or to lie, because she has to lie to everyone. But this is her dad, and she doesn’t want to lie to him, and she’s so sick of lying about Luke. It’s been an endless week and she just wants some honesty and some peace.</p><p>“Yeah.” She means to sound casual, but her emotional exhaustion seeps in, and her voice comes out anguished.</p><p>Her father watches her. “Have you told him that?”</p><p>She shakes her head. “I don’t think…” But she doesn’t really know what to say. She believed for so many months that Luke didn’t care about her any differently than he seemed to care about every other musical person in his life. But does she really believe that still? The pout on his face when Nick was first brought up lingers in her mind. The way Luke always called her incredible when they first met. (The way he now tries very hard to find other words to describe her, but still slips on occasion, and shoots her a nervous look.) The way his gaze lingers on her sometimes. The way he rested his forehead against hers just a couple days ago when he so tenderly rejected her, and the way he immediately held her through the night without question.</p><p>But there’s no way he cares about her like she cares about him. Confident, in-control Luke? He would have said something in the fall.</p><p>(That gut feeling, the “you’re making the wrong argument here” feeling, is raging.)</p><p>Her father taps Luke’s face on the screen. “This boy looks at you like that all the time?” She nods, confused, and studies the video, trying to see what he sees. But… it still just looks like Luke. “I think you should probably tell him,” her dad suggests gently.</p><p>“First rule of band: don’t… date the band.”</p><p>“People date in bands.”</p><p>She shakes her head and turns away. Maybe other people do, in other bands, but not this band. Nothing’s more important than the band.</p><p>Her dad squeezes her hand. “Even if you’re not going to date, I still think he deserves to know.” His mouth tenses. “Life is short. Big feelings shouldn’t be left unspoken.”</p><p>For a second, she can almost picture her mom gently tapping her on the chin and adding firmly, “Buck up, <i>mija</i>.”</p><p>Hugging herself, she focuses her gaze on her lap, trying to physically shrink away from this conversation. “Maybe.”</p><p>She can feel her dad’s eyes roving over her face before he says, overly casually, “I’d like to meet the band.”</p><p>Julie narrows her eyes. “The band, or Luke?”</p><p>“Luckily I don’t have to choose. Find out when they’re free, and I’ll take you all out to a nice restaurant.”</p><p>“You promise not to treat him any differently than Alex or Reggie?”</p><p>“I can even pretend to confuse their names if you want.” She chuckles, already picturing Reggie and Luke pouting at being misnamed. At first, her dad smiles back, but then his face falls serious again. “Do you want to tell me about him?”</p><p>“If you’re going to meet them, I want to hear what you think. Unspoiled and unbiased.” Maybe her dad will hate Luke and that will snap her out of this.</p><p>“Then we’re agreed. Dinner sometime this month. Just let me know when and where, and Carlos and I will be there.”</p>
<hr/><p>Julie thinks that that’s the end of people picking at her relationship with Luke for the week, but the very next day, she’s at her appointment with Dr. Turner. Her therapist clearly expects to discuss her mother, but the wound’s too fresh and Julie doesn’t really have anything to say aside from “fuck the universe,” so she tries to pivot away by talking about the band.</p><p>Dr. Turner sees through her, but she allows the avoidance, which is a relief. Less of a relief—Julie immediately realizes that it’s the first time she’s told her therapist about the band members as individuals. Because Dr. Turner instantly clocks the difference between how Julie says “Alex” and how she says “Luke,” and her therapist eyes her like Julie has just summoned piles of luggage that desperately need unpacking.</p><p>Dr. Turner flips to a fresh page of her notepad, pen at the ready. “Tell me about Luke.”</p>
<hr/><p>Julie doesn’t know what to do with Dr. Turner’s assignment to “re-examine some of your assumptions about Luke” because Julie can’t exactly stroll up to him and ask if he has feelings for her.</p><p>Well, <i>technically</i> she could, and she suspects that that was what Dr. Turner was suggesting, but that sounds utterly horrifying. Being direct about her feelings? Pass.</p><p>Because maybe Luke likes her, but he doesn’t love her, and there’s no point dredging up this feelings nonsense if it’s not mutual. She’s not putting herself through that horrible, shriveling, itchy feeling she got in the car after “Crying Over You.” Only one major rejection per year, please and thank you.</p><p>She tries to put the question of Luke’s feelings on the backburner, but then Alex asks the band to perform a cover of “Somebody to Love” at the next garage party.</p><p>Luke raises an eyebrow. “Instead of just… asking Willie out?”</p><p>Alex crosses his arms and sends the guitarist a very pointed look. “When is the last time you were direct about your feelings, Luke?”</p><p>“Yeah, dude, glass houses,” Reggie agrees. “And I also want to sing ‘Somebody to Love.’ I’m asking Kayla to make it official at the garage party, and I want to set the mood.”</p><p>It’s sweet, but… “The mood of… I am desperate for anyone’s love?” Julie asks. Luke chuckles, sending her a grin. She grins back on impulse, hoping she doesn’t look too dopey.</p><p>“‘Somebody to Love’ is a love song. Don’t @ me,” Reggie insists. “Plus, we thought there would be plausible deniability for Alex. If Willie doesn’t seem into it, we’ll pretend we’re singing the song for me.”</p><p>Luke shakes his head in disbelief. “You two spend so much time lecturing <i>me</i> about my communication skills.” The three guys exchange a loaded look, like they’re having some sort of silent conversation that she’s not part of. A sharp reminder that they were Sunset Curve long before they were Julie and the Phantoms.</p><p>Unapologetic, Alex shrugs. “I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”</p><p>So they schedule “Somebody to Love” for the next garage party.</p><p>As soon as Willie and Kayla show up, Julie can tell the night is going to go well. Willie gives Alex this adorably small wave, and Kayla and Reggie blow each other a kiss.</p><p>“Gross,” Luke mutters to her under his breath.</p><p>She raises an eyebrow, not believing his reaction for a second. “You’re grinning.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m really happy for him.”</p><p>Julie feels very validated by how quickly Kayla and Reggie hit it off, even though she also worries that she undercut what should have been an important “you don’t need to be with someone to be happy“ message by immediately getting Reggie into a relationship.</p><p>Still. She’s really glad for him, and for Alex. It’s easy to temporarily forget her own love woes when she sees how happy they are.</p><p>Luke and Reggie tug the keyboard out front and center, so Julie’s more visible than she is behind the piano. She sits and cues her bandmates into the beginning of the song with a long, slow, “<i>Caaaaaan...</i>” </p><p>The other three begin singing, not yet touching their instruments. Immediately, there are woops from the crowd as they recognize the song.</p><p>
  <i>anybody find me somebody to love?</i>
</p><p>Julie starts to play, then the guys join in right as the verse begins. Alex sings the first verse—he’d been very insistent that “If I have to wait any longer than that, I will vomit over the whole crowd,” and no one had felt like testing how literal he was being. The other three take the backup vocals.</p><p>
  <i>Each morning I get up I die a little<br/>
Can barely stand on my feet</i>
</p><p>Julie glances at Willie, who’s doing a soft smile as he watches Alex. The smile is eerily familiar, but she shakes it off.</p><p>
  <i>Take a look in the mirror and cry<br/>
Lord, what you’re doing to me<br/>
I have spent all my years in believing you<br/>
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!<br/>
Somebody, oh, somebody</i>
</p><p>Julie is close enough that she can see how much Alex is trembling as he makes direct eye contact with Willie during the last line. </p><p>
  <i>Can anybody find me somebody to love?</i>
</p><p>Julie doesn’t turn her head to see what Willie does—that would draw too much attention to them—but a shy, blissful smile spreads across Alex’s face and she knows that whatever reaction Willie had, it was exactly what Alex wanted. Her gaze meets Luke’s and they both grin. One down.</p><p>Reggie takes the second verse, singing to Kayla from the start.</p><p>
  <i>I work hard every day of my life<br/>
I work 'til I ache my bones</i>
</p><p>There’s a slight note of irritation as Reggie sings the line and he glances over at Alex and Luke, who chuckle darkly—the rage of exhausted food service workers.</p><p>
  <i>At the end I take home my hard-earned pay all on my own<br/>
I get down on my knees</i>
</p><p>He waggles his eyebrows at Kayla, who giggles, hiding her face in her hands but still unable to take her eyes off of him.</p><p>
  <i>And I start to pray<br/>
'Til the tears run down from my eyes<br/>
Lord, somebody, oh somebody<br/>
Can anybody find me somebody to love?</i>
</p><p>Before Luke hops forward to take over the bridge, Reggie, Alex, and Julie yell “<i>he works hard!</i>” They’re more aggressive than melodic, and Luke’s voice shakes with laughter as he starts singing.</p><p>
  <i>Every day<br/>
I try, and I try, and I try<br/>
But everybody wants to put me down<br/>
They say I'm goin' crazy<br/>
They say I got a lot of water in my brain<br/>
I got no common sense</i>
</p><p>He glances over at Julie, and she can’t help messing with him. She nods, as if agreeing with the lyric. His mouth drops open, mockingly offended, and he sings the last line at her like it’s a pointed barb.</p><p>
  <i>I got nobody left to believe</i>
</p><p>He doesn’t break their eye contact as they start the piano and guitar duet. He drifts towards her, like their instruments are tugging them closer, and she’s reminded vividly of the second time they performed FIDLAR. Only now, instead of the passionate intimacy of their instruments meeting for the first time, the duet feels soft and warm, more like a loving cuddle than like sex. Their sounds slot together comfortably with a practiced, familiar ease, like their instruments are welcoming each other as old partners.</p><p>It’s lucky that she doesn’t need the sheet music for this song, because she can’t look away from Luke. He’s not doing The Face, which is a relief, but somehow the actual expression on his face is worse. It’s gentle and bright and it makes her heart squeeze intensely and her whole chest tingle.</p><p>She snaps out of her reverie just as her part of the song starts, finally breaking their gaze as she begins to sing.</p><p>
  <i>Lord, somebody, oh somebody<br/>
Can anybody find me somebody to love?</i>
</p><p>As she starts to sing the long note, she chances a glance at Luke. He’s watching her from his mic, expression inscrutable as he joins the guys for the backup line.</p><p>
  <i>Anybody find me someone to love</i>
</p><p>She pulls her mind away from the mystery of his face to sing her verse, closing her eyes so she won’t get tempted to look his way. This is so not the song for getting lost in his eyes.</p><p>
  <i>Got no feel, I got no rhythm<br/>
I just keep losing my beat<br/>
I'm OK, I'm alright<br/>
Ain't gonna face no defeat<br/>
I just gotta get out of this prison cell<br/>
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord</i>
</p><p>The piano, guitar, and bass go silent for a moment, and she sways back to the beat of Alex’s drum, face pointing to the sky as she loses herself in the final note of her verse.</p><p>Alex breaks the silence, singing first.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>Then Luke joins him, swinging his guitar behind his back.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>Then Reggie, who sways playfully to the beat.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>Then Julie, who matches Reggie’s swaying. He laughs, delighted.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to looooove<br/>
Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>They break into pairs to alternate singing “somebody,” with Luke and Alex singing the lower part, and Reggie and Julie taking the higher part. Flashing her a grin, Reggie pops up slightly every time he sings, and she laughs and does the same motion.</p><p>
  <i>Somebody, (somebody), somebody, (somebody), somebody, (find me), somebody<br/>
Find me somebody to love<br/>
Can anybody find me</i>
</p><p>The guys’ voices and Alex’s drums go silent, letting Julie sing without any other sound distracting from her. She slides her voice gleefully up to the high note.</p><p>
  <i>Somebody to</i>
</p><p>Then she makes the mistake of opening her eyes and glancing at Luke. He’s staring at her, and it’s beyond the usual look of awe on his face. It’s like he’s stunned, like his whole world has just been redefined, like he’s…</p><p>She forces her voice to keep singing, her heart struggling to come to terms with the emotions on his face. </p><p>
  <i>love</i>
</p><p>Luke swings his guitar back into his hands and slides into his guitar riff, his face immediately back to normal as the whole band sings and plays the outro.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love<br/>
Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>The entire time, Julie’s brain feels like it’s spinning off in a thousand directions. She’s glad the end of the song is repetitive and easy to perform while not paying too much attention, because she needs her whole brain to process THAT LOOK ON HIS FACE.</p><p>Because if he were looking at anyone else in the world like that, she would think he’s in love. </p><p>Is that what Dr. Turner meant by examining her assumptions? He looks like he’s in love, and the only reason she doesn’t think he is is because he’s looking at her.</p><p>Is that what her dad saw in the video?</p><p>How long has he looked at her like that?</p><p>Luke glances back at her, and immediately notices that she’s off her game. He raises a concerned eyebrow, nonverbally asking if she’s okay. She forces a smile, and he smiles encouragingly in return.</p><p>Which is how they end up singing the final line while gazing at each other.</p><p>
  <i>Find me somebody to love</i>
</p><p>And that shy, fragile look on his face…</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>For some reason, she feels like assuming that he’s in love with her is wildly egotistical. But he definitely at least has feelings for her that are strong enough that she should probably say something. She can’t deny that anymore.</p><p><i>Buck up,</i> mija.</p>
<hr/><p>When the party finally winds down, Julie stays in the garage, enjoying the feel of the late March LA air on her skin and the comforting sounds of chattering students wandering down the street on the other side of the house. The garage has become a second home for her, and she feels almost like she’s being hugged by all the instruments as she sits with her feet tucked up on the couch next to her, marking up her sheet music for “Poor Wand’ring One.”</p><p>Or ostensibly marking up. Really, she’s in panic mode, and she doesn’t know who to talk to because she doesn’t think she can handle Flynn’s tough love right now.</p><p>“Knock, knock.”</p><p>She glances up, surprised to see Luke hovering in the open front of the garage. “Did you really just say ‘knock, knock?’” she teases.</p><p>“Nah, must have been the wind.” He nods towards his car in the driveway. “Did you need a ride home? I thought you left to meet up with Flynn or I woulda—”</p><p>“No, I just wanted to sit out here and think. What are you doing out here?”</p><p>“Uh, the walls aren’t super thick and there’s, uh, a lot happening in there right now.”</p><p>“<i>Oh</i>.”</p><p>“Yeah. I guess we’re really good at Queen covers.”</p><p>She pats the couch next to her. With a wry grin, he drops into the seat.</p><p>The silence between them feels heavy with her realization, so she tries desperately to think of something to say. “And to think Reggie thought he would die alone.”</p><p>Luke chuckles, but he doesn’t look at her. She wonders if he has what she has—an overwhelming awareness that the two of them are now the only single ones, and neither of them is looking.</p><p>(Well, Flynn is repeatedly placing Nick in Julie’s line of sight, so she’s looking on a technicality, but not by choice.)</p><p>“You okay?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah.” Not actually, but she’s not going to discuss her not-okayness with him. “What about you? Are you going to mope about being the only single one in Sunset Curve? Do I need to learn to play guitar like Paul Simon?”</p><p>His answering laugh seems genuine, but there’s an awkwardness behind it as he says, “Nah, I’m not… I’ve never been someone who wants to be in <i>a</i> relationship, you know? Like, I don’t get sad if I’m single. I only get sad…” He pauses, like he doesn’t want to continue, but then he forces a shrug and forges on ahead. “… if there’s a specific relationship I’m not in.”</p><p>It’s the perfect opening—she could ask him if he’s sad. It would be so fucking easy. But she doesn’t have the courage.</p><p>He glances at her. “What about you?”</p><p>The honest answer is that she <i>does</i> get sad about not being in a relationship sometimes, as much as she’d love to be a string obedient woman who isn’t desperate for cuddles. But right now, she’s sad because there’s a specific relationship she’s not in, and she can’t tell Luke that, so she settles for, “I’m fine.”</p><p>He studies her face, and she knows he hasn’t missed that that’s not a full answer, but all he says is, “Cool. Glad we’re both okay.”</p><p>There’s silence for a moment, and she can hear all the way out to the sidewalk, where it sounds like a group of drunk girls is stumbling along singing part of the university fight song. “<i>Fight on and win for ol’ SC, fight on to victory, fight on!</i>”</p><p>Julie doesn’t even notice that she’s started quietly singing along until Luke laughs. He shakes his head and rests it back against the couch.</p><p>“You’re <i>such</i> a Trojan sometimes.” But his voice is fond.</p><p>She flashes him the “V” for victory, then drops her pointer finger and turns her hand around, giving him the finger. He laughs and gently flicks her finger, knocking it down.</p><p>“I win,” he whispers softly.</p><p>“But you don’t have a fight song, so does your victory mean anything?” He chuckles and glances back toward the street. “Do you mind that I’m a Trojan?” she asks before she can stop herself. If she’s not going to ask about his feelings, she can at least be brave enough to ask this.</p><p>“Nah.” He turns his head to the side, still resting against the couch as he looks at her. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m totally over my USC thing, but you belong here.”</p><p>“Is that an insult?” She shifts closer, even though she knows how dangerous that is. He eyes her proximity but doesn’t lose the thread of the conversation.</p><p>“When have I ever insulted you?”</p><p>“Literally the first time we met. And whenever I eat a cupcake.”</p><p>“I stand by the cupcake thing.” His smile gets all soft, like Willie’s did during the gig, and she could swear that his gaze drops to her lips for a second. But then he shakes himself and nods to the sheet music on her lap. “What’s that?”</p><p>“Oh, Harrison wants me to audition for Mabel in <i>Pirates of Penzance</i> next year.”</p><p>“Isn’t that Gilbert and Sullivan? Won’t your dad be horrified by how modern it is?”</p><p>She grins at his memory. “A good reason not to do it. Also, I’m a horrible actor.”</p><p>“I don’t believe it.”</p><p>“You think I’m a good actor?”</p><p>“I just don’t think you’re bad at things. Except holding your liquor. And buying cupcakes.”</p><p>She sticks her tongue out at him. “Well, the audition piece is kicking my ass.”</p><p>“Again, I don’t believe it.”</p><p>“You believe in me too much.”</p><p>For a moment, he gazes at her, warm and fond, and that look sends a thrill through her because… yeah, that’s not platonic. How many times has he looked at her like this? How many times has she managed to convince herself that it’s platonic? “I believe in you exactly the right amount. Which is completely and utterly, especially when it comes to music. Come on, hit me with some operetta.” He nods at the sheet music.</p><p>“What? Now?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll be the Chorus of Girls.” She bursts out laughing because she knows his vocal range doesn’t match the chorus at all. He flushes. “Down a couple thousand octaves.”</p><p>Julie flips to a page and points to the measure. “I’ll start here, so I can ease into the hard part.” She jumps to her feet so she’ll have the maximum power to hit the high notes. He grins up at her and she’s struck by how familiar this is. She could be in any of her music classes right now, standing before her seated classmates while they judge her performance. For a moment, she flashes to that daydream of Luke the USC student, smirking at her over the manuscript as they workshop her performance in class.</p><p>She infinitely prefers her Luke in the garage.</p><p>She starts to sing and suddenly remembers that the libretto for this aria is all about Mabel falling in love. Maybe not the <i>best</i> thing for the two of them to sing together. But the sheet music in his hands helps keep her distanced from the awkwardness. </p><p>
  <i>Poor wandering one<br/>
If such poor love as mine<br/>
Can help thee find true peace of mind</i>
</p><p>She hits the high note, and it soars out of her easily. He beams. “See, you killed it.”</p><p>“Oh, that wasn’t the hard part.”</p><p>He looks startled. “Then what the fuck is the—” She keeps singing:</p><p>
  <i>Why, take it, it is thine</i>
</p><p>Luke comes in, putting a hand on his heart, swaying side-to-side, and trying very hard to sound like he is an operatic chorus. He doesn’t succeed, but it’s still very cute.</p><p>
  <i>Take heart, no danger lowers<br/>
Take any heart but ours</i>
</p><p>Julie comes back in.</p><p>
  <i>Take heart, fair days will shine<br/>
Take any heart, take mine</i>
</p><p>His eyes meet hers for a second before he sings the chorus’s part again.</p><p>
  <i>Take heart, no danger lowers<br/>
Take any heart but ours</i>
</p><p>She takes a deep, steadying breath, because this <i>is</i> the hard part.</p><p>
  <i>Take heart, fair days will shine<br/>
Take any heart, take mine</i>
</p><p>She can tell the exact moment that he reads the cadenza that follows, because his eyes bug out of his head and she has to look away so she doesn’t laugh. Nothing about this section should be difficult—it’s just that Arthur Sullivan apparently wrote this piece under the assumption that Julie could just sing progressively higher notes indefinitely like some sort of, well, soprano.</p><p>Like she’s tracing the notes on the page, she raises her finger up through the air, trying to hit the run of notes as they go up and up and up. She tenses her core, trying to stabilize her voice as much as possible as she leads up to the dreaded D above high C.</p><p>She hits it, and almost stops there because she got the worst note and that’s an accomplishment in and of itself, but Luke is staring at her like he’s never seen her before, and she can’t help but show off by completing the trill at the end of the cadenza.</p><p>“Holy shit,” he breathes.</p><p>She grins at his reaction. “Turn the page.”</p><p>He does, and she skips ahead to the second dreaded section, which she’s never managed to get completely right before, but she thinks the guy she’s in love with might love her too, and no matter how complicated and hard that might turn out to be, right now she feels a bit invincible.</p><p>
  <i>Fair days will shine, take heart</i>
</p><p>And she launches into the nightmare staccato section that follows.</p><p>It’s a series of quick, high notes, and every time she’s sung it before, she ends up either not being able to get the notes out fast enough or getting off pitch in her rush to keep the pace. Hitting the notes is a bit like playing part of a video game where you have to hop quickly between a long series of tiny platforms, and if you don’t land exactly right or you lag at all, the whole level is screwed.</p><p>Every time she sings this section, she’s reminded that singing is a damn sport.</p><p>
  <i>take heart, take heart</i>
</p><p>But with Luke’s quiet support and the loose joy in her, she lands every note, and the final triumphant “<i>take mine</i>” at the end has never felt so good.</p><p>When she finishes, she bites her lip nervously. He collapses back on the couch, staring at her like she just invented the sun. “Jesus Christ.”</p><p>She grins. “That’s coloratura.”</p><p>His open mouth curves into a smile. “You were right. I could not handle that.”</p><p>She’s grateful that her skin tends to conceal blushes, because her cheeks are very warm right now under his gaze. Perching gently on the arm of the couch, she shrugs, suddenly shy. “It’s only ‘mildly difficult coloratura.’ So don’t be too impressed.”</p><p>“Too late, I’m already wicked impressed.”</p><p>She grins at him, and he grins back, and then he exhales shakily and his gaze slips to her lips so openly that she can’t even pretend she doesn’t see it. For a moment, she’s very tempted to slide down onto the couch and capture his mouth with hers. Surely they’re allowed a slip up or two?</p><p>Almost like he can hear her, he shakes his head. “You want me to drive you home? Or we can walk, if you want.”</p><p>“I can get a campus cruiser. I don’t want to bother you.”</p><p>“I want to." He bites his lip, and adds quickly, "And assume I have an ulterior motive of not wanting to go back in the sex house just yet.” For a second, she’s tempted to suggest a counterplan—go back to his room and have loud sex themselves to drown out the noise.</p><p>Yeahhh, she definitely needs to leave.</p><p>“Okay then, walk me home. It’ll take longer.”</p><p>Grinning, he pops to his feet. “With pleasure.” He holds out a hand to pull her up, his eyes soft and shy and adoring and… yeah, she has to tell him.</p>
<hr/><p>Honestly, she probably would have lost her nerve if it hadn’t been for what Flynn said about pining being unhealthy <i>for him</i>. For herself, she would have sucked it up, imploded with these feelings rather than expose herself in case she’s wrong about how he feels. She’d rather sign herself up for suffering than for shame. But she won’t volunteer Luke for suffering.</p><p>After trying and failing to figure out what to say for several days, she decides to pull a Luke. Find a song, hide behind the music. Bury themselves in a melody and semi-plausible deniability.</p><p>As she sets her keyboard on the floor in the garage, the nervous butterflies in her stomach feel like they’re throwing some kind of party. Or maybe fighting a battle. She hasn’t felt this nervous since before performing “Hot Blooded.” Before she can lose her nerve, she texts him “Band rehearsal?”</p><p>It’s happening. She can’t back out now. <i>Here we, here we, here we fucking go.</i></p><p>She’s still not totally convinced that he feels the same way, even when he comes out to the garage and even as she hands him the sheet music for “Crazier Things” and explains her “let’s sing to get on the same page” idea. So she tries to give him the option to back out, in case she’s got it wrong or in case his feelings aren’t as deep as the song. “But, um, if the song is completely off base for you, then tell me and I’ll just—”</p><p>He glances down at the title and doesn’t even read the lyrics. “No, uh, that’s… good for me.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Oh, fuck.</p><p>Oh, fuck fuck fuck.</p><p>Even though she’d done all this, she hadn’t really <i>believed</i> that he actually felt the same way. He’s staring back at her, looking equally shocked, and… she’d thought she was so obvious, but he genuinely seems to have had no idea and…</p><p>How did they get this <i>so wrong</i>?</p><p>As they sing together, it’s like he’s been wearing some sort of mask—or maybe she was the only one who saw the mask—and it’s been ripped off and she can see all the same love and longing on his face that she’s been stewing in. All the illusions of confident, cool Luke vanish before her eyes, and he’s just a lost, heartbroken boy who adores her.</p><p>A boy who, from the look on his face when he sings “<i>wondering if I'm worth your thoughts</i>,” didn’t think <i>he</i> was good enough for <i>her</i>, and that breaks her heart all over again.</p><p>If he cared about her so much, why did he never say anything?</p><p>(Why did she never say anything?)</p><p>They’re in love. They’re fucking in love, and she’s never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in her entire damn life. They haven’t kissed since… when? The green room? And never a gentle, sweet kiss. Always the kind of kiss that was more about the sex that would follow than about the kiss itself. God, she wants to share a kiss with him that’s an end in and of itself.</p><p>When they finish playing, they sit in that horrible silence and she forces herself to keep her fingers on the keyboard.</p><p>“Yeah,” he whispers, anguished. The kind of yeah that means “I love you,” the kind of yeah that should be joyful, the kind of yeah that should be the start of something.</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>From his face, this isn’t a discussion about whether or not they’ll bury their feelings and pretend this never happened. She chose “Crazier Things” because she assumed it wouldn’t be a discussion. But his reaction confirms it, and he’s so immediately sure that it stings. Sure, they’re in love…</p><p>“But the band.” He looks miserable as he says it, but this is the line he’s drawing without pause. No matter how much he cares about her, music will always come first for him. They’ve had three months of hooking up and almost four months of a weirdly charged friendship—not a strong enough basis for a relationship to gamble the future of the band on. She tries not to let that itchy feeling of rejection overwhelm her again.</p><p>“Yeah, the band.”</p><p>In the aching silence that follows, she feels that warm, moist sensation in her eyes that warns of impending tears, and she really really doesn’t want to cry in front of him. So she jumps at his suggestion of a jam session. And as they jam with the band, she feels momentarily okay. Yes, she wants to be with him, like she’s never wanted to be with anyone before in her life. But these three people have given her so much comfort over the past few months. She just found them: she can’t risk them cutting her from the band. She won’t lose another musical family.</p><p>And when they’re jamming, her heart is light and warm and she feels like it’s completely possible to move past the Luke thing. It feels so worth it. But as she’s leaving for the night, Reggie spins in the middle of the garage and wriggles happily. “I love this so much.”</p><p>“Love what?” Julie asks with a grin.</p><p>“The band.”</p><p>And her eyes meet Luke’s and both their smiles drop because apparently the phrase “the band” has been ruined for them now.</p>
<hr/><p>After Julie gets into her apartment that night, she leans heavily against the door. A weighty exhale rips out of her throat and it’s like all the feelings of the day drop onto her at once.</p><p>She feels like she’s been punched in the heart, and the person she wants to comfort her is Luke. But the thought of Luke just makes her heart ache more, because she knows that he’s probably in his room feeling the same way. They’re both breaking apart, and they can’t make each other feel better.</p><p>Her phone goes off, and it’s Luke’s text tone, and she almost rips her jeans wrenching her phone out of her pocket.</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>song rec: lyrically about a sad situation but hopeful in tone</i>
  </b>
</p><p>She wants to cry, because it’s like he read her mind.</p><p>Don’t reply. They <i>cannot</i> help each other through this. That’s poking a wound before it’s even been bandaged. But her fingers disagree, and they’re already typing.</p><p>
  <b>I’m guessing you’re not an Ariana Grande fan.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>thank u, next recommendation</i>
  </b>
</p><p>The immediacy of his reply coaxes a wet laugh out of her. She can practically picture him on the other end of the conversation, mirroring her. Gripping his phone like it’s the closest he’ll get to holding her.</p><p>
  <b>“better off”?</b>
</p><p>She has the bouncy rhythm of the end of the song in her head, and it’s not until after she’s hit send that she realizes that the lyrics are probably not the best for them right now.</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>assume i never want to listen to chelsea cutler again in my life</i>
  </b>
</p><p>She wants to laugh and she wants to cry. Was he as miserable after “Crying Over You” as she was? How long has he felt—no, don’t wonder about that. That’s not helpful.</p><p>
  <b>“Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right”</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>the dylan version?</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Of course. What are we, animals?<br/></b>


<b>(But PP&amp;M are good too.)</b><br/>
<b>Also, “All Shades of Blue” and “Four Days Straight”</b>
</p><p>There’s no reply for a moment, and she thinks about letting the conversation end there. But she wants him to know that she’s right there with him, breaking apart.</p><p>
  <b>Any recs for me?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>this ain’t a love song, scouting for girls</i>
  </b>
</p><p>There’s a pause, then:</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>never mind, don’t listen to it</i>
  </b>
</p><p>Normally, she would instantly listen to the song, trying to figure out what he doesn’t want her to hear, but she just plops down on the couch, staring at her phone.</p><p>She doesn’t want to be texting him about hopeful break-up songs.</p><p>She wants to be holding him.</p><p>A tear starts to roll down her face before her phone chimes again.</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>100 bad days, ajr</i>
  </b>
</p><p>That’s what finally breaks her.</p><p>Tucking her phone into her chest like it’s him she’s cuddling to her, she collapses on her side, curling in on herself. The tears start to come faster and harsher until she can’t see the room anymore, and sobs crack violently through her body.</p><p>The front door opens and suddenly a blurry Flynn is in front of her. “Julie!? Are you okay?”</p><p>But Julie can’t get herself to stop crying, because it feels like someone has reached inside her chest and scraped out her heart and she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to breathe through this pain. Without hesitating, Flynn climbs onto the couch behind Julie and wraps her arms around her friend, holding her tightly until she’s able to calm down.</p><p>It takes a while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, I was like, “I want a song for the band to sing where Julie realizes Luke loves her, and the song choice should be subtle and complex,” and once again, I went in the opposite direction.</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/steepedinwords/pseuds/steepedinwords/works?fandom_id=47174995">steepedinwords</a> pointed out that the guys needed to hear Julie sing opera—it had honestly never occurred to me, and it evolved into my favorite scene in this chapter, so all hail steepedinwords!</p><p>Songs/musical references in this chapter:<br/>• "Somebody to Love" by Queen, obviously, but I had the Jukebox the Ghost cover in mind<br/>• <a href="https://youtu.be/ZeCOgKx-zdc?t=113">The USC Fight Song</a><br/>• "Poor Wand’ring One" by Gilbert and Sullivan (I used the Glyndenbourne Festival Chorus version when I wrote this, but the internet is crawling with a thousand different versions)<br/>• "Crazier Things" by Chelsea Cutler and Noah Kahan<br/>• "better off" by Chelsea Cutler and Jeremy Zucker<br/>• "Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right" by Bob Dylan (but Peter, Paul, and Mary are good too)<br/>• "All Shades of Blue" by Gregory Alan Isakov<br/>• "Four Days Straight" by Scattered Trees<br/>• "This Ain't a Love Song" by Scouting for Girls<br/>• “100 Bad Days" by AJR<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. No, I Ain’t Scared of You No More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "100 Bad Days" by AJR</p><p>Playlist is <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3xEvzpxtP9cjH28EqujXOk?si=qPF4FFPWQO2heUcXzo7DYg">here</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Singing “Crazier Things” with Luke was meant to give them closure. They were supposed to sing this song and acknowledge their feelings and accept that they couldn’t act on them, and that would start the process of moving on.</p><p>It has the opposite effect. Because now Julie knows, from the intensity of his facial expressions, from his smiles and nods and head shakes, how much he agrees with the lyrics. Now she knows that he loves her, wants to be with her, genuinely deeply hurts from not being with her.</p><p>So much for putting her feelings to bed.</p><p>All she wants to do when she’s around him is kiss him and snuggle into him and hold his hand and she really doesn’t know how to just be around him and not be dating him when she knows he feels the same. It was hard before when she thought it was one-sided. It’s impossible now.</p><p>It has made her a lot less bold though. She doesn’t do the piano thing anymore. Because now she knows how effective that is, and she’s not about to tempt them both. In general, she doesn’t know how to get back to their normal dynamic, because their normal dynamic was always a bit flirty and touchy. She doesn’t even know how to casually text him, because every time she opens her messages to him, she sees his last message and she remembers what that night felt like.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, dinner with her dad just makes things more confusing.</p><p>When she gets to the guys’ house so they can carpool to Maccheroni Republic, she finds Alex and Reggie sitting in the kitchen ready to go and rolling their eyes in the direction of Luke’s room.</p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p>“Luke’s been getting dressed for, like, twenty minutes,” Alex sighs.</p><p>“I don’t understand what’s so difficult. Interchangeable sleeveless shirt, black jeans, maybe a hat. It’s practically a uniform,” Reggie groans.</p><p>“I’ll go get him,” Julie offers, and takes off down the hallway.</p><p>The door to Luke’s room is open, and everything inside is clothes.</p><p>If someone had pressed her about Luke’s wardrobe, Julie would have said she assumed it was small. Maybe, like a cartoon character, that you would open his closet and find fifteen pairs of identical jeans hanging next to each other. She really did not anticipate that, if he emptied out his drawers and closet, there would be enough clothes to cover the entire room.</p><p>“… what’s going on?”</p><p>He jumps and glances nervously at her. “Just, uh, trying to figure out what to wear.”</p><p>“I got that. I’m more wondering… why?”</p><p>As he stares at the mountains of clothes, he bites his lip and she can almost feel the air between them turn awkward. “I don’t want your dad to think I’m a fuckboy.”</p><p>“My dad doesn’t know what a fuckboy is.”</p><p>He cuts her a look. “But he’ll know the vibe. And apparently I vibe as a fuckboy.”</p><p>She laughs. Now that she knows how ridiculous Fuckboy!Luke is, it’s really hard not to enjoy how frustrating he finds it. “Just wear sleeves and don’t bounce too much. You’ll be fine.” He bites down harder on his lip as he scoops up a bunch of sleeveless shirts and stuffs them back in a drawer. “Why do you care if my dad thinks you’re a fuckboy?”</p><p>As soon as the question is out of her mouth, her brain catches up. She darts her gaze to him, only to find him clenching his jaw and refusing to look at her.</p><p>He flicks his eyes to the open door, checking that the guys can’t hear, and lowers his voice. “I’m nervous. I know that’s not what this is, but I want him to like me.”</p><p>Part of her breaks at his confession, but part of her is relieved because she’s been feeling the same. She’s not nervous about her dad meeting Alex and Reggie—they’re her friends, and of course he’ll like her friends. But she <i>is</i> nervous about him meeting Luke, and she can’t convince herself that this dinner isn’t significant.</p><p>Sifting through a pile of shirts, she tosses him the first sleeved item she finds. “Short sleeves. And…” She picks up the long denim coat of his that she loves. “Cool jacket.”</p><p>“You think it’s cool?”</p><p>“You know it’s cool. That’s why you wear it.”</p><p>He smiles, still not looking at her. There’s an awkward pause, then he mumbles, “Um, I gotta…” and holds up the shirt.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, of course.”</p><p>She turns her back and studies the opposite wall, which is… technically excessive given that society has deemed Luke’s nipples suitable for public display, but there is absolutely no way she can look at him shirtless. The last time he changed in front of her was bad enough, and she thought she was the only one with a case of feelings at the time.</p><p>The sound of his shirt coming up is almost as bad as seeing it, so she desperately tries to fill the room with another sound, blurting out the first words that come to mind. “Did I ever tell you that my mom would like you?”</p><p>Cool cool cool, Julie, dig the knife into your own heart a little more.</p><p>“Yeah?” he asks, sounding wistful but pleased.</p><p>“You have a lot in common. Glasgow rock, Cream, a love of the f-word.”</p><p>He chuckles, then steps in front of her as he pulls on his jacket. She doesn’t let herself dwell on how cute he looks, with his eyes wide and shy and eager to please.</p><p>“Do you know what her favorite Cream song was?”</p><p>“I don’t.” She feels a pang of regret at her own lack of knowledge. “But my dad might.”</p><p>“Can I ask him, or…” He eyes her, and she clocks the question behind the question.</p><p>“You can bring up my mom. We like talking about her.”</p><p>“Cool. Hat or no hat?”</p><p>“Luke, it’s April in LA. If you wear knitwear, my dad is going to think you’re an asshole.”</p><p>He chuckles, then nods. “Alright, let’s go.”</p>
<hr/><p>She thinks they’ve mostly succeeded in being normal at dinner, though her dad greets Reggie and Luke by swapping their names and Luke proceeds to pout all the way into the restaurant, as if her father’s fake confusion is somehow a reflection on Luke.</p><p>For the most part, her dad and brother don’t embarrass her. Her dad makes sure to ask all the guys the same boilerplate “where do you come from, where are you going with your life” questions. (She doesn’t think her dad’s extra interest in Luke’s answers is obvious to anyone who doesn’t know him well.) Carlos instantly bonds with Reggie when the bassist gets outraged by the lack of pizza on the menu, and the two of them immediately descend into a passionate, whispered conversation in which, from the snippets of it that Julie can hear, Reggie has way too much in common with her pre-teen brother.</p><p>Ray eyes them with amusement, and then turns to Luke and Alex. “Alright, so what are your musical origin stories? How did you find the drums?”</p><p>“I had a lot of feelings, and the drums helped me work through them.” Julie knows that the full story involves an anxiety diagnosis and a very toxic relationship with his parents, but this is the version of the story that Alex always gives strangers.</p><p>“And you?”</p><p>“Uh…” Luke’s cheeks tinge pink as he admits, “When I was five, I heard a recording of Eric Clapton and I told my parents, ‘I can do that.’”</p><p>Her father chuckles, amused. “Not short on confidence then.”</p><p>Luke lets out what Julie thinks might actually be classified as a nervous giggle. Alex shoots him a very alarmed and horrified face, but her dad very politely pretends not to notice. “He just made it sound so easy. I was really disappointed when I had my first lesson and learned four chords and none of them were in ‘I’m So Glad.’”</p><p>Her dad eyes him. “You a Cream fan?”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>Alex side-eyes the use of “sir,” and looks at Julie with confusion. Given what she knows of how Luke tends to bottle up his feelings, she’d already assumed that he hadn’t told the guys how he feels about her. But that look confirms it. They have no idea why he's being so weird around her dad.</p><p>“Is ‘I’m So Glad’ your favorite song by them?”</p><p>“That or ‘Tales of Brave Ulysses.’”</p><p>“That was my wife’s favorite,” her dad smiles softly.</p><p>Luke grins. “It’s a great choice.”</p><p>Her dad leans forward. “Okay, so my Rose had a theory. All guitarists fall on a spectrum between Eric Clapton and Jimi Hendrix. The Clapton guitarists are careful and methodical. They want to make sure every single note they play is beautiful. The Hendrix guitarists are quick and frantic. They’re okay with hitting some bum notes, because they’re focused on the overall effect. The beauty for them is… the chaos, not the pretty notes. So, where do you fall?”</p><p>Luke sits back and bites his lip, thinking. But not like he’s actually wondering. More like he’s just had his worldview shattered.</p><p>Julie laughs. “Oh no, <i>Papi</i>, you broke him. He’s not a Clapton guitarist.”</p><p>“I could be,” Luke tries.</p><p>“Could be, but you’re not.”</p><p>“Damn it.” He all but pouts at Julie.</p><p>Her father studies their eye contact, That Dad Look crossing his face. “So, Julie didn’t tell me the story of how she joined the band.”</p><p>Luke’s ears immediately turn red. “Uh…”</p><p>“Yes, I did,” Julie cuts in quickly. “Flynn’s friends with Alex.”</p><p>“That’s a fact, not a story.”</p><p>Luke takes a brave stab at a parent-friendly version of their origin story. “Uh, we ran into each other at an open mic. And Jules, uh…” He hesitates, like he doesn’t want to embarrass her by bringing up her emotional state at the time. She smiles softly at him before remembering her father’s presence.</p><p>“I was going to bail, so Luke basically pestered me into performing with them.”</p><p>“I was being supportive!”</p><p>“Yes, but also a pest.”</p><p>His mouth drops open in mock disbelief and he shakes his head at her, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. She grins back, completely unapologetic.</p><p>“What song did we sing again?” Alex asks innocently.</p><p>Luke blinks rapidly. “Something by Foreigner, I think.”</p><p>“Definitely Foreigner,” Alex agrees. “I wish I could remember the specific song though.”</p><p>The drummer flinches, like he’s been kicked under the table. Her dad raises an eyebrow at Julie, so she continues the story. “I sang with them and then we kept running into each other at open mics and they kept helping me out. I guess eventually they figured it would be easier to actually rehearse with me instead of just getting saddled with me at the last minute.”</p><p>Luke and Alex exchange a confused look. “Yeahhh, that’s not what happened. We, like, begged you to join so you could elevate us.”</p><p>“I don’t recall any begging.” She meets Luke’s gaze, which is very dangerous considering what they were actually doing the specific moment he asked her to join the band.</p><p>He doesn’t look away. “I’m sorry. There was meant to be.”</p><p>“You can beg now. I’ll allow.”</p><p>“Julie Molina, will you please stay in our band? You are a human wrecking ball, and I throw myself at your feet.” She grins at the memory.</p><p>Thank god Alex cuts in. “We realized that we were a much stronger band with a much more interesting sound with Julie. So we begged her to be our frontwoman and named the band after her.”</p><p>Julie’s jaw drops. “What? I thought the name was just something Reggie came up with when he was…” She glances at Carlos, who’s talking to Reggie and not paying any attention, but she still shoots her dad an apologetic smile. “... drinking lots of juice.”</p><p>“The Phantoms bit.” Luke nods, then gestures at himself, Alex, and Reggie. “But we’d already agreed that your name would be in it.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because you’re Julie Molina,” Alex explains, like that’s a sufficient answer.</p><p>“You’re the talent,” Luke elaborates. “We’re the support act.”</p><p>He doesn’t sound bitter about it at all, but she still hates it. “That’s not true.”</p><p>“Okay, we’re pretty awesome too. But you’re Florence. We’re the Machine.”</p><p>“The Machine is a person, not the rest of the band.”</p><p>“Huh,” Alex says. “The more you know.”</p><p>“Point stands,” Luke insists, undeterred.</p><p>“Do you, like, practice motivational monologues for me every morning?”</p><p>“Nah, you just inspire them naturally.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes with fond exasperation and finally looks at her dad, who’s watching the interaction with poorly concealed delight. “He’s constantly auditioning to be my number one fan.”</p><p>“Well, there’s fierce competition for that role,” Ray warns Luke. “Me, Carlos, Flynn, Julie’s <i>tía</i>. You’re competing with the best of the best.”</p><p>Luke grins again, eyes sliding over to her. “I don’t do it to win. I do it for the love of the game.”</p><p>Julie raises an eyebrow. “The game being…”</p><p>“Hyping you up. Until you start doing it yourself.”</p><p>She refuses to maintain eye contact with him when he’s being this sweet.</p><p>Her father smiles to himself. “Well, I’m very glad you all found each other,” he says, before looking to Reggie. “Now what about you? How did you find the bass?”</p>
<hr/><p>Julie thinks they’ve gotten through the meal unscathed, until they’re finishing dessert. Her dad sends Julie a look she can’t read before he turns to Reggie. “So your girlfriend’s name is… Kayla?” Reggie nods. “And your boyfriend is Willie.” Alex does a soft, private smile at the mention of his boyfriend. Then her dad’s eyes cut to Luke and, even before he speaks, Julie wants to vanish through the floor. “And you’re not seeing anyone?”</p><p>“Uhhhhhh, no.” Julie expects Luke to add something like “I’m focusing on music right now,” but he doesn’t.</p><p>She waits for her dad to interrogate the guitarist more, but instead he looks at her. “And you? Not secretly dating anyone?”</p><p>A loud choking sound explodes from her throat. “Dad!”</p><p>“I’m just checking,” he says, mild but unapologetic. He sends her a pointed look.</p><p><i>Oh</i>. Does he actually think she’s dating Luke? Are they acting like they’re secretly dating?</p><p>“To be fair,” Reggie giggles. “Flynn is trying so hard to make the Nick thing happen that sometimes I think you’re dating him.”</p><p>Julie and Alex both glare Reggie into silence, but Luke stiffens at her side. For a bizarre moment, she has the urge to squeeze his knee reassuringly. But she can’t really comfort him, can she? It won’t be Nick, but eventually they <i>will</i> move on and date other people. They’re not just going to spend the rest of their lives pining.</p><p>(She’s not sure what she hates more—the idea of Luke dating someone else, or the idea of dating someone who isn’t Luke.)</p><p>While she doesn’t reach for Luke, she does try to make her voice as dismissive as possible as she explains to her dad, “It’s not a thing. He’s just some guitarist at USC.”</p><p>Her father crosses his arms and then says the worst possible thing in the most innocent tone: “In high school, you were always interested in the guitarists.”</p><p>…</p><p>She absolutely cannot look at Luke. Possibly ever again.</p><p>“DAD.”</p><p>Carlos snorts loudly. “Yeah, do you remember that poem she wrote about how cute she thinks their finger calluses are?”</p><p>Yep, definitely never looking at Luke ever again. She makes aggressive eye contact with her brother, forcing out between her teeth, “I did not write a poem about calluses!”</p><p>Carlos giggles and starts DIRECTLY QUOTING, “‘Some call them calluses, but I call them the sweet scars of a musical journey—‘”</p><p>“You went through my dream box???” she shrieks as loudly as possible, trying to cover the sound of his voice.</p><p>“Carlos,” Ray insists firmly. “Stop embarrassing your sister.”</p><p>“You started it,” Carlos and Julie snap.</p><p>Alex, Reggie, and Luke burst out laughing and, yeah, maybe Julie is just never going to look at anyone ever again.</p><p>“What about our calluses, Julie?” Reggie asks innocently, pointing to him and Alex. “Or is it only guitarists who have sweet calluses?” The drummer and the bassist hold out their hands for inspection.</p><p>She screws up her face, feeling like it’s about to melt off from sheer embarrassment. “I regret everything about this dinner.”</p>
<hr/><p>At the end of the night, her dad gives each of the guys a hug and an invitation to another dinner in a couple months, and Carlos fist bumps them all. Luke street-parked several blocks away to get the cheapest parking, so the guys go to collect his car while Julie walks her dad and brother back to the valet stand. Carlos dawdles behind them, his face and attention buried in Pokémon Go.</p><p>Without her even prompting her father, he smiles knowingly. “I liked Luke.”</p><p>“We’re not together,” she insists quickly.</p><p>“I still liked him.”</p><p>“Yeah?” She hates how eager she sounds, but she craves her dad’s approval, even if it doesn’t change anything.</p><p>“He seems passionate and hard-working and determined. And kind. I like what he brings out in you.”</p><p>“Yeah, he really likes to hype my music.”</p><p>“Not that. Well, that too. But he makes you smile and take things a little less seriously. I like seeing you act your age.” Her father grins at her, and for a second she grins back before she realizes that this is way too close to a conversation of her father approving of her new boyfriend, and she needs to bring it back to earth.</p><p>“We’re really not together. If I start dating anyone, I’ll tell you.”</p><p>“Is there any point asking why you’re not dating him?”</p><p>“It’s complicated.”</p><p>Her father shakes his head but doesn’t push it. Reaching over Carlos’s head, he tugs his son’s phone out of his hands. “Carlos, what did you think of the band?”</p><p>“I really liked Reggie. Can we adopt him and Alex?”</p><p>Julie laughs. “They’re adults, so no.” Then she clocks the missing name. “… wait, did you not like Luke?”</p><p>“We can’t adopt your <i>boyfriend</i>. That would be weird.”</p><p>Her father screws up his mouth, barely containing a laugh.</p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend!”</p><p>“Does his face know that? Cause he looks at you like he thinks he’s your boyfriend.”</p><p>“What does that even mean??”</p><p>Her father shrugs and nods. “I have to agree with Carlos.”</p><p>“<i>Do you??</i>”</p><p>He hands his ticket to the valet and turns back to her. “It was lovely meeting them. I hope we’ll be able to see you all perform soon.” He wraps her in a tight hug and, as he pulls back, his face twists up before he adds, “And <i>mija</i>? I remember being twenty. There were many things that I thought were very complicated. A lot of them turned out to be pretty simple.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he shakes his head gently. “Just food for thought.”</p>
<hr/><p>On the drive back to USC, the band stops for gas. Alex gets out to fill up the tank and Reggie goes into the gas station for a slurpee, leaving Julie and Luke sitting in silence, her in the back row, him in the driver's seat.</p><p>Saying something can only lead to more awkwardness, but if his parents had said <i>anything</i> about her, she would want to know. Even under these circumstances.</p><p>She waits until she can see Reggie paying at the register, so they won’t have to have a long conversation, and then admits, “My dad really liked you.”</p><p>Luke meets her eyes in the rear-view mirror.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>She realizes that it’s too vague, so she adds, “He made a point of telling me that.”</p><p>His eyes widen with understanding and a grin automatically shoots across his face. “Oh.” Then he seems to remember their reality, and he drops his head into his hands. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Yeah. Fuck.”</p><p>“What about Carlos?” he asks.</p><p>She opens her mouth to answer, not sure what to say, but luckily Reggie tugs open the door and collapses into the seat next to her, breaking the moment.</p>
<hr/><p>Julie wouldn’t have thought it were possible, but “Luke is in love with me” becomes normal pretty quickly. Or maybe it’s just that, with the end of the semester taking over everything, she doesn’t have time to dwell. The next few weeks stumble quickly by in that simultaneously speedy and glacial way that the end of the semester does, where everything centers around the deadlines she’s desperately trying to meet.</p><p>She just doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with the sad feelings right now, and one of the things she loves about Luke is how easy loving him is. It doesn’t feel dramatic and all-consuming. It just is, like oxygen. The thing that sucks is knowing she’ll need to go through that whole painful process of getting over him eventually. But that can be her job in the summer, when she’s living back at home and has more space from the guys. Or maybe when she’s in Manchester. The point is, she’ll deal with it later, because right now she’s trying to pass her classes, so she just lets herself be in love with him without focusing on the shit parts.</p><p>It’s surprisingly not awkward. Except for when it is. </p><p>The weekend before the last week of classes, Flynn and the guys manage to drag her to a party, insisting that she “needs fun.” She tries to point out that they’re going to the Jukebox the Ghost gig next week, so she’s already got fun scheduled over the next seven days. But this explanation only makes them more insistent.</p><p>She’s trying to figure out why she recognizes the house when they walk in and she spots the familiar karaoke machine in the corner. On impulse, she glances at Luke, and he smiles ruefully without looking at her.</p><p>There’s immediately a weird energy between them, and it doesn’t let up for the rest of the night. Like when “One and Only” starts playing and Julie begins singing along, only to realize on a delay that Luke is too. Surprised that he knows BLESSED, she looks over and catches his eye and, for a second, they’re accidentally singing “<i>If it's all the same, nobody else means anything to me, to me, I need your love</i>” TO EACH OTHER.</p><p>They quickly fall silent and turn to other people in their group, but the awkwardness doesn’t dissipate.</p><p>Later on, he’s lingering by the karaoke machine, beer in hand, and she appears at his side. “Do you want to sing the Stereotypes?”</p><p>He jumps and glances nervously over at her, like he was caught looking at porn.</p><p>“Oh. Nah.”</p><p>“Why? You too good for modern music?”</p><p>He puts a hand over his face. “God, I really was a dick, wasn’t I?”</p><p>“You really were. How on earth did we become friends?”</p><p>His eyes linger on her face for a moment, flickering briefly to her lips.</p><p>Oh right. That’s how.</p><p>She swallows. “The Stereotypes?”</p><p>He winces, clicks on the band name, and points to “Perfect Girl.” “I was, uh, planning to hit on you.”</p><p>“<i>Oh</i>.” She stares at him, shocked, as the incident from almost a year ago comes into sharper focus. The two shots of tequila in her system tell her it’s a good idea to ask, “… how’s that going for you?”</p><p>He shakes his head and laughs. “Fuck you,” he says without heat.</p><p>Tapping the screen again, he points to a name. “Isn’t this the dude you’ve been humming all week?” She immediately wants to fall through the floor.</p><p>It’s Jon Bellion. Who sings “All Time Low.”</p><p>Which she’s been listening to constantly.</p><p>Cause, well. “<i>You’re the reason I’m alone and masturbate</i>.”</p><p>She’s saved by Alex appearing between making a loud disgusted noise. “Ugh, I need to pee and there are people having sex in the bathroom.”</p><p>“Wow, how inconsiderate,” Luke tsks with an impressively straight face. Then he looks <i>right at her</i>.</p><p>“Yeah, who would do that?” the tequila tells her to reply. He licks his lips and her gaze falls to his tongue.</p><p>God, she misses that tongue.</p><p>…</p><p>she did not just think that.</p><p>From the way his eyes darken, she almost feels like he can hear her thoughts.</p><p>They really need to get out of this house. If “The Hills” starts playing, she will not be held responsible for her actions.</p><p>She’s really glad that Alex suggests they leave and find a bathroom elsewhere, because she’s minutes away from asking Luke if he wants to check out the bathroom for posterity’s sake, and from the looks he’s giving her, she thinks he might actually say yes.</p><p>It’s only later, after she and her vibrator have thoroughly played out the “posterity’s sake” scenario, that she clocks the significance of what Luke said about the Stereotypes. He hadn’t heard her voice yet. He hadn’t known anything about her musical talent or ideas or presence. And sure, he hadn’t known much about her as a person either. But way before he knew her voice, he’d noticed her.</p><p>It’s shallow, but it sparks a little kick of joy in her before she drifts off to sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>Nick coming to Jukebox the Ghost is the last thing Julie wants, but Flynn seems very determined. As her friend helps her get ready, Julie makes eye contact with her in the bathroom mirror. “What did you say to Nick? You didn’t, like, tell him I’m interested, did you?”</p><p>As if underscoring the point, her phone chirps with Luke’s text tone.</p><p>Flynn sighs and starts to apply Julie’s eyeliner. “I wouldn’t do that. I said you were technically single, and he could hang out with the group and see if he thought there was something there.”</p><p>“Did you warn him—?”</p><p>“That you’re probably emotionally unavailable? Yes. About Luke specifically? I decided that if he can’t figure that out for himself the minute he sees you with Luke, he’s gonna have a hard time dating you.”</p><p>Julie sighs, because neither English nor Spanish contain the adequate words to express how much she’s not going to date Nick.</p><p>As Flynn goes back to Julie’s room to get her box of accessories, Julie checks her phone.</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>did you hear the guitar lick I was humming earlier? i have no idea what song that’s from and it’s driving me up a wall</b>
  </i>
  <b></b>
</p><p>
  <b>“F.N.T.” Semisonic</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>… how did you know that so quickly</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>I’ve seen Ten Things I Hate About You because I live in modern society</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>i've seen it! i just didn’t memorize the soundtrack</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Then you haven’t seen it properly and we need to watch it again</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>reg and alex are down for a rom com night, but i’m gonna insist that we also watch the best rom com of all time</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Which is?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>speed</i>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>…<br/>
Speed is not a rom com</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>if you think that, you haven’t seen it properly and we need to watch it again </i>
  </b>
</p><p>Flynn, who apparently came back into the bathroom at some point, pulls Julie’s phone out of her hand with a groan.</p><p>“Seriously? Can you at least try to go one night without focusing on Luke?”</p><p>“Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to set me up with Nick on a group hangout with Luke.”</p><p>“Okay, 1) it’s really hard to do a casual group hangout with you this semester that <i>doesn’t</i> include the guys, and 2) the guys are a test. If Nick can’t handle them, he can’t handle your life.” </p><p>Huh. Julie had just assumed that Flynn had been so desperate that she hadn’t fully thought through this plan, but apparently there’s a method here, even if Julie disagrees with it.</p><p>Shoulders slumping in defeat, Flynn hands her a set of earrings. “Jules, I’m not even asking you to date this guy. I just want you to try paying attention to someone else for five minutes, because I don’t want you to be brokenhearted anymore.”</p><p>As Julie starts to put the earrings in, she mumbles, “I don’t feel brokenhearted.”</p><p>Flynn starts rummaging through her box of lipsticks. She’s clearly trying to project calm, but the aggressive rattles of tubes betray her frustration. “Because you’re not actually trying to get over Luke. I watched you sob your heart out, and then you immediately went back to pretending that it didn’t happen and that you could be in this weird not-dating-basically-dating thing without any consequences.”</p><p>“You think I should get over him?” Julie asks, unable to look at her friend.</p><p>“Honestly? I think you should just date the dude because you two are making yourselves miserable for no fucking reason. But you don’t want to date in the band.”</p><p>“Because it’s too risky! A bunch of hookups and a weird friendship are not a solid basis for a relationship.”</p><p>Flynn hands her a lip gloss. “OR it’s proof of concept. Ever since you two stopped hooking up, you’ve just gotten in deeper. It’s been, what?, eight months since that first open mic and, aside from the fact that you’re not dating, the two of you have a confusingly solid relationship.”</p><p>Julie uncaps the lip gloss but just stares at it, like applying the damn thing will take more courage than she has right now. “Maybe now, but what if it ends? The guys will kick me out of the band and I can’t lose them. I can’t lose any of them. Not after—”</p><p>She doesn’t finish her sentence, but Flynn doesn’t need her to. She squeezes Julie’s shoulder firmly. “The guys love you. They will not kick you out over some breakup.”</p><p>“Luke would never risk it.”</p><p>“Have you actually asked? Not ‘have you vaguely sung about it?’ Have you actually <i>asked</i> him?”</p><p>“It was obvious.” Flynn groans loudly and bites her lip. “What?”</p><p>“Okay, string obedient woman talk? I don’t get why you always follow his cues.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You keep acting like Luke is this confident dude who knows what the fuck is going on with his life and, from what I’ve seen of him, that’s a massive misreading. Honestly, I think if you took the lead and showed him what you wanted, he would go for it.”</p><p>“I did! The song—”</p><p>“You chose a song about being in love but not being together. <i>You</i> set the mood.”</p><p>“I…”</p><p>Flynn takes the lip gloss from her and starts applying it to Julie’s lips. “Okay, why did you choose that song? Why not, like, ‘Love You Madly?’ A song about trying a relationship with someone you love?”</p><p>“Because I knew what he was going to say.”</p><p>“No, you <i>guessed</i>. Why did you choose that song?”</p><p><i>Because I knew he was going to reject me.</i> But Julie doesn’t want to admit that, so she crosses her arms. “Why do you think?”</p><p>“You’re scared of Luke.”</p><p>It’s the last thing Julie expects to hear. “What?? I’m not <i>scared</i> of Luke.”</p><p>“You’re terrified of him rejecting you, or the band rejecting you. So you pre-rejected yourself, and I think he took your cue. Maybe if you’d gone in with actual words, or with Cake lyrics, he would have had a completely different reaction.” Julie doesn’t know how to argue, so she takes the lip gloss and stands up, finishing applying it herself.</p><p>She jams the cap back on the tube and stares down at the counter, refusing to look at Flynn.</p><p>Her friend rests against the counter next to her and sighs. “Jules, look, even if your relationship somehow becomes completely platonic… And to be clear, nothing that’s happened this year makes me think that’s possible, but for arguments’ sake. It’s not healthy for any kind of relationship with him to be based around you only doing what you think won’t get you rejected.”</p><p>“That’s not what I’m doing.” (<i>Yes, it is.</i>) “Neither of us wants to risk the band.”</p><p>Flynn shakes her head but seems to give up. “Then you need to actually try to get over him. Because this whole stasis thing you two are stuck in? It’s bad for both of you. Either be together or get over each other. You have to pick one. And I’m not convinced that you’re going to be able to get over him if you’re in the band together.”</p><p>That, more than anything, sticks with Julie. Because she suspects Flynn is right. She can’t get over him while they’re in band together, and she’s not leaving the band because she loves the band, so what does that leave?</p>
<hr/><p>Julie promises Flynn that she’ll try, and she does mean to, but trying to focus on Nick when Luke is right there is a bit like trying to eat celery while a chocolate cake watches. Technically, she knows the former is better for her, but seriously? It’s a chocolate cake.</p><p>As Nick makes awkward, self-deprecating jokes, she remembers why she liked him freshman year. He is precisely who her type has always been: shy, sweet, gentle. Luke—confident, loud, brash, energetic, unrelenting—is not someone she would ever have thought of as her type. But here he is, right by her side, and she can’t find it in herself to feel terribly invested in Nick.</p><p>It doesn’t help that he keeps bringing up Thornton stuff. And to a certain extent, she doesn’t blame him because that’s what he has in common with her. But even if Luke didn’t have a particular sensitivity to that topic, she’s acutely aware that half of the people at this table don’t go to USC and the conversation feels alienating, so she keeps trying to open it up to the rest of the group.</p><p>Nick is nice. But, if there is a time when Julie will feel ready to move on from Luke, now is not it, certainly not when she’s sitting close enough that his nervous, bouncing leg keeps bumping into hers under the table.</p><p>Still. She’s going to be polite, and she’ll try not to focus too much on Luke.</p><p>And then Luke suggests that they sing “Get Off.”</p><p>Honestly, she knows she should have anticipated what happens, but she really does think that they’re just going to sing the Dandy Warhols. It’s only when they begin to sing while looking at each other that she realizes what a mistake that is. She can’t platonically sing “Get Off” with this guy who has gotten her off countless times without immediately being aware of how desperately she wants him to get her off again.</p><p>Luke lasts less than a verse before his eyes sweep over her like he’s never seen anything better in his life, and she’s hit by a flash of heat. He’s given her the occasional heated glance over the past five months, but how long has it been since he unabashedly looked at her like he wanted to fuck her?</p><p>So when the group next to her gently bumps into her, she lets herself stumble into Luke, curious about how he’ll react. He doesn’t disappoint, immediately tucking her in front of him. But there’s still a distance between them, so she bops her head around as much possible, making sure her hair bats him in the face. Again she wonders, and again she’s not left waiting long before he pulls her right up against him.</p><p>She thinks maybe this will be it, just some plausible deniability grinding to the Dandy Warhols before they move on with their night. As much as she’s tempted to look back at him, she can’t bring herself to. Without eye contact, this whole thing can be forgotten and written off as just a fluke that doesn’t need to be addressed, like the weirdness between them at the house party. If she looks at him, this becomes real and then he might reject her again and—</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Flynn’s <i>right.</i></p><p>Julie’s scared of Luke.</p><p>She’s scared of someone who’s in love with her and is all but dry humping her in public because he wants her so badly. She almost laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it.</p><p>The band reaches the bridge and their instruments go silent, and Julie’s struck again by the urge to make eye contact with Luke. Her gut itches, begging her not to risk rejection, but…</p><p>
  <i>Fuck it dog, life’s a risk.</i>
</p><p>She turns her head and his eyes snap hungrily to hers. They start moving together, and she lets her gaze drop purposefully to his lips as she licks her own. A shaky exhale runs through his body in response and…</p><p>… how did she go months being convinced he was unaffected by her?</p><p>He runs his nose up her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, and sings huskily in her ear.</p><p>
  <i>But all I wanna do is get off<br/>
And feel it, feel it, feel it, babe</i>
</p><p>A moan escapes her that she hopes no one can hear in all the noise. She wants him closer, so she slips her hands over his and pulls them to the opposite hips, wrapping him around her.</p><p>She doesn’t stop singing on purpose, but she can’t even pretend to focus on the song. Luke’s face drops to the crook of her neck, his lips inches from that sensitive spot, and she wishes that they were somewhere private so he could kiss her neck the way she wants and slide his hand between her legs.</p><p>She only becomes aware that the band is singing the rhythmic “heys” of the outro because Luke begins thrusting his hips in time to them. The movement makes a wave of dizzy heat crash over her again, and she presses back against him to create more friction.</p><p>When the crowd starts cheering, it takes her a moment to register the sound and notice that the song is done. Part of her wants to pout, to yell at the band to just keep playing forever so the two of them can stay like this. But Luke releases her, and she stumbles, not having realized how much he was keeping her upright. Her legs are feeling very floppy and warm at the moment.</p><p>He let her go. Does he regret it? She inhales, gathering her courage before she looks at him.</p><p>Oh. No, he doesn’t regret it. He looks… she doesn’t let herself glance down, but she <i>knows</i> he was affected, and he’s staring at her like he wants nothing more than to pull her into the nearest bathroom.</p><p>God, she wants that too.</p><p>No, damn it, Julie. Stop having sex in public bathrooms. Say something to diffuse this situation. “Yeah, I think we would have done a better job with that song. But, you know. Not in front of your parents.”</p><p>“Probably a good call,” he nods, but that look hasn’t left his eyes and she’s so on edge that her toes are tingling.</p><p>Desperately trying to calm herself down, she swallows. “I’m gonna get some water. Do you want anything?”</p><p>“No, I’m good. I’ll probably just go back to the booth.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>She realizes that she can’t send him off as he is, so she hands him her purse. “You might want to… carry that.”</p><p>As an actual adult who should know how to handle an awkward situation, she gives him <i>a fucking thumbs up</i> and flees to the bar.</p><p>She’s tempted to order a drink, but she gave Luke her purse and therefore her wallet and ID. She’s almost disappointed that she gets to the bar just as there’s a lull between crowds, because she wants an excuse to be away from the table longer. Her mind and… other parts of her definitely need calming before she goes back to Luke.</p><p>As she waits for the bartender to get her water, she runs her mind back over what just happened on the dance floor. Luke caved very quickly, nothing like that sad, withdrawn boy in the garage desperately whispering, “But the band.” All it took was a single song for him to become putty around her, hot and firm and ready and singing dirty lyrics in her ear. Maybe he <i>has</i> been following her cues. Maybe it’s time she gives some of her own.</p><p>When she gets back to the booth, she glances over to see him nibbling nervously on his lip and bashfully unable to meet her eyes, and she suddenly realizes.</p><p>He’s scared of <i>her.</i></p><p>What the fuck have they been doing?</p><p>She doesn’t instigate what happens afterwards, but she definitely encourages it, and when his finger finally slide home, on top of everything else she’s feeling, she feels inexplicably relieved. Because finally something has happened that they can’t explain away or ignore. Whatever happens now, this is part of their story and they’ll have to deal with the consequences.</p><p>But she absolutely cannot look at him, because even just the glimpses she gets in her peripheral vision let her know that he’s doing that face. The “I could come just from watching you get off” face. If she looks at him right now, she’ll jump him. There’s no way she won’t.</p><p>When Nick interrupts them, she has to repeatedly remind herself not to yell at him. He’s a nice <strike>celery</strike> guy who didn’t mean to interrupt her public sexcapades. This is definitely on her. They should not be doing this here.</p><p>She feels less magnanimous when Reggie interrupts because… why the fuck did they need a <i>platter</i> of mozzarella sticks? Is the universe just fucking with her at this point? Why won’t it just let her have an orgasm??</p><p>Luke withdraws instantly, and for a moment, she’s tempted to follow the cue of his casualness. But damnit, she’s a string obedient woman, she refuses to be scared of him, and she doesn’t want to be edged and left hanging. So, after checking that Reggie is focused on texting Kayla, she makes eye contact with Luke and deepthroats a mozzarella stick.</p><p>Or tries to. Honestly, mozzarella sticks are not sexy and they’re not designed for deepthroating, but she thinks the message comes across. And in the midst of all the horniness and exasperation of his face, she also clocks relief.</p><p>So when Alex comes back to the table, she shifts closer to Luke, pressing her entire leg against his. Letting him know that she hasn’t forgotten and she doesn’t want plausible deniability. She wants him.</p><p>For a second, he’s still, and then he presses back very gently.</p>
<hr/><p>All night, Julie tries to bring up reminders, not letting the moment between them drop.</p><p>Like when Flynn’s in the bathroom and Nick goes up to get more drinks and Reggie waggles his eyebrows and asks, “So, what do we think of Nick?”</p><p>She shoots him an exasperated look. “He’s fine, and I continue to be uninterested in him.”</p><p>Luke asks innocently, “But why? We have it on good authority that you’re into guitarists.”</p><p>There’s a cocky smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and, even though he’s teasing her, she’s pleased by it. Both because it’s unreasonably hot, and because it suits him loads better than the little jealous pout he did when Nick first showed up. Luke squeezes his thigh against hers, and she squeezes right back, a breathtaking tingle spreading through her whole body.</p><p>Reggie and Alex giggle, pulling her back to the conversation. She glares at all three of the guys. “If you were good friends, you would pretend not to know any of the embarrassing stuff my family told you.”</p><p>“Jules,” Alex puts his hand over his heart. “It’s <i>because</i> we’re good friends that we are going to memorize every embarrassing thing your family ever tells us and bring it up constantly. We love you too much to ever let this go.”</p><p>Reggie snaps a finger gun of agreement at Alex. “So what’s wrong with Nick? Are his calluses not impressive enough?”</p><p>She scrunches her face at him, defiant. “You know, I haven’t looked at his fingers.”</p><p>“Why not?” Luke asks. “You don’t care about the sweet scars of his musical journey?” She shoots him a middle finger, and he grins. “Come on, I think this could be a great new song for us. Give us the rest of your poem and we’ll sample some Foreigner in the background.”</p><p>“I set that poem on fire. Just like I’m now tempted to set you on fire.”</p><p>“That’s fine, we’ll recreate it. Just tell us what’s so great about calluses.”</p><p>Alex and Reggie get up to let Flynn back in the booth. In the brief moment when no one is sitting next to them, Julie leans over and murmurs quietly, “Why do you think I get off so much faster from your left hand than your right?”</p><p>He forces a laugh, so it looks like she told him a joke, and refuses to look at her as the rest of the group sits back down.</p><p>But he presses his thigh against hers much more firmly and briefly runs the callused tip of his left pointer finger over her knee, causing her to momentarily lose track of her breath.</p>
<hr/><p>The whole damn evening is charged and distracting, and there’s a distant part of her that’s frustrated because she’s been looking forward to seeing Jukebox the Ghost since they got tickets four months ago, but now she just wants the night to be over so she and Luke can do… whatever it is they’re going to do.</p><p>During a break between songs, they almost physically run into each other as they’re leaving their respective bathrooms. He stops short at the sight of her in the narrow hallway, and swallows audibly. “Hey.”</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>It’s the first time they’ve been alone all night.</p><p>His heated gaze flickers to the bathroom, like he’s trying to figure out whether there’s any way they can hook up there with all these people around. But she wants more than a desperate bathroom hookup. She’s in love with this guy and they’ve had a lot of sex. She at least deserves to know what he looks like without any clothes on. Self-care is getting a naked Luke Patterson into her bed.</p><p><i>Here we fucking go. </i>She opens her mouth, all set to suggest that they go to her place afterwards, when Nick skips up to the bathroom. (Yes, a literal skip. How did she ever think Luke’s bouncy walk was irritating?) Nick slows, looking confused by their loitering outside the bathroom.</p><p>“Everything okay?” he asks Julie.</p><p>“Yeah, we’re headed back out there now.”</p><p>“Cool cool.” He flashes a thumbs up, and she forces a smile. As Nick slips into the bathroom, Luke raises an eyebrow at her and opens his mouth to say something. Possibly jealous, probably smug.</p><p>Without a word, she takes his hand and tugs him gently out of the hallway. Whatever he was going to say dies on his lips.</p><p>They find their friends crowded in the corner just as Jukebox the Ghost starts “See You Soon.” Julie’s been trying to put some space between her and Luke during the higher energy songs, not wanting to risk sparking any more public humping, but this song is soft and sweet. It feels safe, so she slips in next to Flynn, standing slightly in front of Luke.</p><p>Their whole group begins singing along quietly as the song starts. Swaying in place, Julie lifts up her hands, instinctively trying to figure out and play the piano part mid-air.</p><p>
  <i>I used to get mad at the small things always<br/>
I guess that's a part of missing you somedays</i>
</p><p>Luke flashes her a soft smile and starts strumming an air guitar, swaying to the same rhythm.</p><p>
  <i>Wonder where you've been, wonder where you are<br/>
Will I see you soon?<br/>
And you've been gone for a long time, I worry</i>
</p><p>Julie is sucked into the beauty of the song and isn’t prepared for Luke to lean over and sing directly into her ear.</p><p>
  <i>And in my dreams you always stop to say hi to me</i>
</p><p>She doesn’t let herself look back at him, but she’s sure that her face has an embarrassing smile on it and she leans slightly back against him as he keeps singing to her.</p><p>
  <i>And it's been so long, I'd forgotten<br/>
What it's like to say to you<br/>
"I'll see you soon<br/>
I'll see you soon"</i>
</p><p>The way he sings it breaks her heart. Of course, they see each other every single day. But never fully. It’s stolen glances, concealed emotions, constantly tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, saying goodbye at the end of the night and walking away. It honestly feels like they haven’t <i>really</i> seen each other recently. How long has it been since they looked at each other with anything approaching honesty? How long since he’s slipped past her in the green room and suggestively whispered “See you soon?” to invite her to meet him in his car?</p><p>She slips her hand behind her back and links it with his. He runs his pointer finger over her skin in lazy, weirdly sensual circles. The simple contact sets her on fire, and she loses track of everything around her but their connected hands.</p><p>It’s like she’s been tipped into a bath made of the song, submerging herself in the wistfulness of missing someone you love and wanting to see them again but feeling time slipping away from you. And while she’s under water in the lyrics, only tethered to reality by the gentle scrape of Luke’s fingertips across her hand, she’s struck by a bolt of clarity. Her worries about the band might be valid, but they don’t feel real, like they’ve been washed off in the bath. What <i>does</i> feel real is this guy, and why the fuck is she keeping herself from this? She loves Luke, Luke loves her, they inspire each other to be the best possible versions of themselves, and he’s gripping her hand like staying away from her isn’t his choice.</p><p>There’s a strange feeling in her gut, and it takes her a moment to recognize it. Faith. In the middle of all this complicated mess, she’s sure of Luke in a way she didn’t know it was possible to be sure of another person. She’s not worried about things not working out between them. She’s worried that he doesn’t want her the way she wants him, and her fact-checking gut won’t let her get away with believing that any longer.</p><p>She has no fucking clue what comes next, but can she honestly say she’s more afraid of rejection than she is of not taking the chance?</p><p>Leaning against Luke again, she sings the final verse over her shoulder in his direction.</p><p>
  <i>Remember the people that we loved, magic</i>
</p><p>She finally forces herself to look up and she temporarily loses the thread of the song because he’s staring back at her, eyes intense but smile unbearably soft. She feels fucking<i> treasured</i> and she almost kisses him, but she forces herself to start singing again.</p><p>
  <i>Time is unbending, I want to be never-ending</i><br/>
<i>And if I say it enough, it might come true</i><br/>
<i>I'll see you soon</i>
</p><p>She sings the last line as a question. She’s not sure what she’s asking—is she propositioning him? Asking him out?—but he nods back, saying yes to all of it.</p><p>Her heart skips a beat and all at once she’s excited, not just for the presumably mind-blowing sex they’re going to have tonight, but for the feelings that neither of them are ignoring. No matter what happens, she’ll get this one night of openness and honesty, and she had no idea how much she’d been denying herself that until she gave herself permission.</p><p>Filled with that sense of confidence and a refusal to just follow his cues, she keeps her mind focused as soon as they get out of the gig. She bats away Flynn’s attempt to pair her off with Nick for the drive home, she suggests that Luke drop off the guys first, and she invites Luke back to her apartment.</p><p>And he goes along with everything, looking relieved each time that she suggested it first.</p><p>He really isn’t the confident guy she thought he was. Maybe in the future she should try more of this self-confidence thing.</p><p>Seeing Luke in her room is one of those things that she knew would be embarrassingly meaningful to her, but she’s still not really prepared for how much when she turns around and sees him. In the midst of the colorful, bright explosion that is her bedroom, there he is in his faded Yardbirds cutoff and his classic black jeans. Simultaneously wildly out of place and exactly where he belongs.</p><p>He eyes her, shy and nervous, like he’s waiting for her to reject him.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>How did they manage to be so on the same page and so completely not in all the wrong ways?</p><p>She doesn’t even have to psych herself up to kiss him. She wants to and he wants her to, so she fucking does it.</p><p>And that’s how the whole night goes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter Seven was the easiest chapter of 100 Bad Days to write, so naturally, it was the hardest chapter of Casual.</p><p>I have a very tentative existence on tumblr now (the last time I was on tumblr, it became my entire life, so I’m trying to be chill about this), but if you want to come and talk to me there, I’m <a href="https://pearlcaddy.tumblr.com/">pearlcaddy</a>!</p><p>Songs/musical references in this chapter:<br/>• Cream: "I'm So Glad," "Tales of Brave Ulysses"<br/>• "One and Only" by BLESSED<br/>• "All Time Low" by Jon Bellion<br/>• "F.N.T." by Semisonic<br/>• "Get Off" by the Dandy Warhols<br/>• "See You Soon" by Jukebox the Ghost<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. It’s a New Dawn, It’s a New Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone</p><p>If you've gotten this far without reading 100 Bad Days, this chapter will have basically zero re-treads, so definitely go <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232234/chapters/66523612">read that first</a> so you don't miss any plot stuffs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Until tonight, Julie hadn’t really appreciated how much she was missing having sex where kissing and acknowledging feelings were involved. The two of them have had some great hookups, but she doesn’t know if any have topped the intensity of this first slow, soft missionary in her bed, trading gentle, deep kisses and long, adoring looks and hushed, awed compliments. She’s never understood crying during sex before, but her eyes feel very moist. In the aftermath, he looks similarly wrecked, his eyes shining as he cradles her face, and she almost thinks he’ll say “I love you.” But she can sense that neither of them is willing to say the words unless they’re together, so instead he rests his forehead against hers while they calm their breathing. They both close their eyes, processing all the emotions and sensations that have just run through them and enjoying the connection.</p><p>At first, she thinks that maybe this is how the whole night will go—that they’ll acknowledge their feelings but not verbalize them—but then he asks what she misunderstood about him in the fall. As she struggles to articulate all her false beliefs, she’s completely focused on the boiling feeling of embarrassment running rampant through her body. She’s not at all prepared for Luke to cup her face and tell her, voice trembling with emotion, “Jules, you are astounding and brilliant and talented and hard-working and kind and gorgeous. And ever since that first garage party, you’ve been it for me. As soon as you took that mic out of my hand, I was so gone on you and I don’t think I’m ever coming back.” </p><p>She’s been trying not to think about what this whole night means—whether it’s a fluke or the start of something—but worry has been growing in the pit of her stomach. The instant he says that, she can almost feel the worry freeze and a small sprig of hope start to grow.</p><p>(She memorizes what he said and plays it back repeatedly in her head for the next several weeks, and the thrill that swoops through her stomach every time never dulls.)</p><p>Everything that night is overwhelming and intense. Even the tiniest moments: when he sees her naked for the first time and forgets how to speak for several seconds, when he gently tugs her blanket over the two of them while they’re recovering, when he explores her room and immediately identifies her dream box.</p><p>(She takes the box away from him and coaxes him back to bed. There’s a partially-written poem in there that she’s not ready for him to see. If they can make it a duet someday, she will.)</p><p>But she thinks one of her favorite moments is at five in the morning when her stomach gurgles loudly and he chuckles into her temple.</p><p>“Hungry?”</p><p>“We’ve been working up an appetite,” she mumbles defensively.</p><p>“Yeah we have,” he smirks. “As a college student, do you have <i>any</i> food in your kitchen?”</p><p>“I think there are eggs?”</p><p>He pops out of bed, and she groans at the loss of contact. He beams down at her and leans over to kiss her. Just a gentle peck, not asking for more and not leading to anything. A kiss that’s an end in and of itself. She grins up at him as she watches him leave the room, completely naked.</p><p>She shakes her head and collapses back on the bed for a second. Her pillow now smells like him, she realizes with a grin. If tonight is a fluke, then at least—</p><p>Nope. She’s not staying here with her thoughts if they’re going to spiral like that. She gets twelve damn hours to be happy.</p><p>She jumps out of bed and snags his shirt to wear, as if the kitchen cabinets will judge her for being topless in front of them. As she pulls the shirt on, she has to concede that, yeah, the armholes are comfy. Fiiine, she gets the appeal of the cutoffs. She hesitates before leaving the room, grabs something from her bedside table, and tucks it in her hand.</p><p>As she heads to the kitchen, she can hear him singing under his breath.</p><p>
  <i>You will always be in my heart<br/>
You were there right from the start<br/>
You will always be in my heart</i>
</p><p>It’s “Perfect Girl.”</p><p>She rests against the doorway to the kitchen, grinning at the sight of a naked Luke searching through the cupboard for a pan. Her heart swells, because he’s such a dork and he’s naked-cooking eggs at 5 am and it’s everything she hadn’t realized she wanted.</p><p>She joins her voice to his.</p><p>
  <i>I don't care, about the time<br/>
I just want your hand in mine</i>
</p><p>He grins and nods her over. She leans against the counter next to the stove.</p><p>
  <i>I don't care, about the place<br/>
I just want to see your face</i>
</p><p>Setting a pan on the stove, he cradles her face, singing the last line to her softly.</p><p>
  <i>You're the perfect girl</i>
</p><p>He kisses her gently, then strokes her cheeks, looking down at her so gently and affectionately that she almost starts to cry. “See, I knew we’d kill that song.”</p><p>“It’s not actually a duet.”</p><p>“We can turn anything into a duet. It’s our superpower.”</p><p>He pulls away and searches in the fridge for the carton of eggs. The simple domesticity of it squeezes her heart. “Is it sad if this has been kind of a fantasy of mine?” she asks.</p><p>“What, sex in your kitchen?” He sets the carton on the counter.</p><p>“You existing in my kitchen.” That unbearably soft look engulfs his face again. She smiles back, then gestures at his nudity. “But I am worried about the combination of naked and fire. Didn’t your job train you on kitchen safety?”</p><p>“Hilarious that you think my employer cares about my safety. Why, would you rather—” In the middle of motioning at her shirt, he realizes what she’s wearing and freezes.</p><p>It’s nice to know that she can scramble his brain the way he scrambles hers. A disbelieving smile spreads across his face. “You’re, uh. Wearing my shirt.” He takes in her complete lack of pants. “You’re Winnie-the-Poohing it in my shirt.”</p><p>She was aiming for sexy, but his use of Winnie the Pooh isn’t encouraging. “Is that okay?”</p><p>He eyes her in the full-bodied way he usually only does on stage when he’s hamming it up for the crowd. “Uh… yeah. Yeah, it’s…” She raises an eyebrow, and he huffs out a breath. “Honestly, I thought ‘naked’ was going to be my favorite outfit on you, but this is also very good.”</p><p>She smirks and slips in front of him at the stove. “I’ll protect you.” Dropping the item from her hand onto the counter, she splashes some oil in the pan and turns on the stove.</p><p>He goes still behind her, eyes on the counter. “That’s, uh, a condom.”</p><p>“To be honest, I’ve had multiple fantasies of you in the kitchen.”</p><p>He groans and collapses his face into her shoulder. “You’re trying to kill me.”</p><p>“Nope, just to fuck you.”</p><p>He grips her hips, holding her against him. As she cracks the eggs into the pan, he starts to kiss his way up her neck, quickly finding that damn spot again. She lets out a soft moan, then immediately flushes.</p><p>“My neck’s so sensitive,” she mumbles, feeling embarrassed, like it’s some sort of sign of immaturity.</p><p>“I know, it’s the fucking best,” he groans. He sucks the spot and drifts his left hand up her chest, rolling her nipple lazily between his fingers through the fabric. She exhales his name in a high-pitched breath and presses back against him. “Christ, you’re sexy,” he whispers, like it’s an automatic response.</p><p>“I am?” she asks before she can stop herself.</p><p>Sliding his right hand up into the armhole of his shirt, he palms her breast, pulling her even closer against him as he rasps in her ear, “Do you have any idea how fucking distracting you are? When we’re writing, you suck on your lip all the damn time. And sometimes when you hit the high notes when you sing, you get this look on your face that’s… not exactly the face you make when you come, but close enough to fuck me up. And when you’re struggling to nail something on the piano, you make <i>this noise</i>, like…”</p><p>He sucks sharply on her neck and she groans.</p><p>“No, that’s not quite it. More like…” He slides his left hand between her legs, slowly dragging his pointer finger over the seam of her thighs like he’s about to dip between them. Then he veers his finger away at the last second. She whines, and he chuckles cockily. “There it is.”</p><p>Pretending she’s got herself together, she flips the eggs in the pan.</p><p>The smirk drops from his voice as he runs his nose affectionately along the crook of her neck. “But even just you existing near me, doing nothing, derails my mind all the time.”</p><p>It’s not like he’s never complimented her appearance before today, but his compliments have always been hushed and vague, like he didn’t think he was allowed to voice them and they’d only come out by mistake. Technically and intellectually, she knows that he finds her attractive, but she’s always felt like she’s playacting at being sexy.</p><p>Maybe she is. But if so, he’s falling for it. The way he clings to her right now reminds her of the bar last night, when he was putty around her. She feels like a fucking queen again.</p><p>But then he starts teasing her, trailing his fingers gently over her inner thighs, and she makes a soft pleading noise, rolling her hips against his hand. He chuckles again. “You get that this isn’t my dominant hand, right? I can do a much better job with my right hand.”</p><p>“No. Calluses over precision every time, I’m telling you,” she insists breathily.</p><p>Rewarding her eagerness, he sucks her neck and dips a finger between her thighs. She moans softly and drops her head back on his shoulder, but he nudges her. “Gotta keep your eyes on those eggs,” he whispers.</p><p>Forcing her eyes to look at the pan, she tries to focus on the eggs, because she doesn’t want to set off the smoke alarm or to accidentally burn herself and ruin the night with a trip to urgent care. She’s not looking to get cockblocked by the US healthcare system.</p><p>But, like, he’s massaging her breast with his right hand, and the fingers of his left hand are wandering tortuously between her legs, and his mouth has attached itself to that spot on her neck, so eventually he has to turn off the stove because she’s not paying any attention.</p><p>“Eggs’re definitely burnt,” he observes, voice wrecked.</p><p>“I really don’t care,” she gasps, almost dizzy from how turned on she is.</p><p>“Yeah, neither do I.”</p><p>He ends up tugging her a safe distance from the stove, bending her over the counter, and fucking her from behind. When they finally get to their food later, the eggs are cold and charred and utterly disgusting.</p><p>It’s perfect.</p>
<hr/><p>The later in the morning it gets, the more aware Julie is of the potential clock on their time together, and the fact that they haven’t talked about it even though they said that they would.</p><p>She’s relieved that, this time, he takes the lead. “I don’t think I can go back to how things were,” he confesses as they cuddle.</p><p>“Neither do I.” She links her fingers with his, trapping his hand on her hip. “But I also don’t want to leave the band.” Her voice cracks, and she winces internally, hoping she doesn’t sound too small.</p><p>A look of confusion spreads across his face and he kisses her firmly, almost reassuring. “It’s not Sunset Curve plus Julie Molina. It’s Julie and the Phantoms. The band doesn’t exist if you’re not part of it. I’ll talk to Reggie and Alex.”</p><p>She nods, but as she lays her head back down on his chest, she can’t shake the knowledge that the band can so easily be Sunset Curve again. Reality is settling back in and that feeling of hope is fading. “What if they say no?” she asks, refusing to look at him.</p><p>He sighs heavily. “Then we’ll figure it out.”</p><p>She keeps her eyes on their interlocked fingers. “What is there to figure out?”</p><p>There’s a long pause. Long enough that she <i>has</i> to look over at him. His face is crumpled in hurt. He swallows, then his voice come out with a forced delicate tone. “Is it that easy for you? If they say no, we just… go back to being bandmates?”</p><p>Needing a clearer view of his face, she props herself up on her arm. “I assumed that was what <i>you</i> would want.”</p><p>He shakes his head.  “If it turns into a choice, I honestly have no fucking clue.”</p><p>There’s no way that’s true. “It’s <i>the band</i>,” she points out.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“With the guys. Your family.”</p><p>“They’ll be my family no matter what.”</p><p>“But you love being in a band with them.”</p><p>“Yeah.” His gaze lingers on her, and she feels the weight of the words they’ve not yet said to one another. “And if I have to choose, I’m saying I have no clue.”</p><p>Her mouth may literally be open, but she’s not entirely sure because she feels like her brain is a snow globe that just got flipped upside down and shaken up.</p><p>Now it’s his turn to focus on their linked hands as he mumbles, “But it’s cool if it’s an easy choice for you.”</p><p>Six weeks ago, it <i>had</i> felt like an obvious choice, even if it was incredibly painful. The band—a potential lifelong career decision—over a guy. But ever since “Crazier Things” when she tried to decide that this couldn’t happen, the relationship between them has just felt increasingly inevitable and solid. And after last night, she feels like Luke might be a lifelong decision too. Obviously they’re twenty and in love and it’s easy to feel like it’s going to be forever and they might be totally wrong, but… it’s not as easy as just “the band” anymore.</p><p>“I don’t have a clue either,” she admits.</p><p>In spite of the circumstances, a giant smile engulfs his face. <i>I love you</i>, her heart screams.</p><p>“Have I mentioned that you’re my favorite?” she asks lightly, settling her head back on his chest. If neither of them knows what to do next, there’s no point continuing to ruin their one guaranteed happy bubble with hypotheticals. She’s going to hope, she’s going to try to have faith, and she’s going to defuse the damn tension because she’s so sick of tension.</p><p>“I thought it was a tie.” He wraps his arm around her and pulls the blanket over them.</p><p>“Different categories. Flynn’s my sister, the guys are my brothers, and you’re…”</p><p>“I’m what?” He raises an eyebrow with a grin.</p><p>“My favorite hot jackass guitarist.”</p><p>“Coming from you, I know that’s a high honor.” Even though she was asking for it, she still sticks her tongue out at him. He traces her face gently, voice turning soft. “You already know your category.”</p><p>“Favorite human wrecking ball?”</p><p>“Nah, queen. Queen of the mic, queen of the keys.” He pauses for a second, then taps his chest over his heart. “Queen of this.”</p><p>If she lets herself dwell on it, she’ll melt, so she shakes her head. “Cheesy.”</p><p>“But true.”</p><p>For a moment, basking in the glow of that adoring look in his eyes, she feels a resurgence of the confidence she felt when she first yelled at him at the house party. She smirks, taps her own chest, and says, “Prince.”</p><p>“Not king?”</p><p>“Nope. We’re going by British parliamentary succession rules. I’m the one who was born to the throne. As my consort, you can’t have a higher title than me. So, I’m the queen and you’re the prince.”</p><p>His fond smile turns into a groan. “You’re killing me. Cocky Julie is so fucking hot.” He lifts up the blanket and glances down at himself, then collapses his head back onto the pillow. “Nope, there’s no way, I’m too tired.”</p><p>She wants to suggest later… but they don’t know if there will be a later. So she just giggles and buries her face into his chest and hopes.</p>
<hr/><p>After several long, desperate goodbye kisses outside Luke’s car, Julie stumbles towards class, calling Flynn on her walk over to Thornton.</p><p>“So, I have a confession.”</p><p>Flynn sighs. “Just please tell me you kept the sex contained to your room.”</p><p>“… how did you know?”</p><p>“I don’t know why the two of you think you’re subtle, but you are not.”</p><p>“Sex was contained.” Oh, wait. “Er, mostly.”</p><p>“Mostly??”</p><p>“I promise I’ll clean everything. I’m really sorry, we got carried away.”</p><p>“Bleach it and never tell me where.” There’s a long pause, then Flynn’s voice becomes gentler. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>From her tone, Flynn thinks they’ve had a one-night relapse and Julie’s now going to be heartbroken. Which… maybe they have and maybe she will, but she’s desperately trying to cling to optimism. “Luke’s talking to Alex and Reggie.”</p><p>“Oh <i>shit</i>. So is this gonna be a thing?” Julie can’t get a read on Flynn’s reaction.</p><p>“I think so. I hope so. Cause last night was… really intense.”</p><p>“Ooh, is there hot goss?”</p><p>“I don’t know about hot goss, but… he basically said I’m it for him.” She’s not sure why she adds the basically—he literally said that. Maybe because it <i>should</i> feel like too much. It’s not just “I want to date you;” it’s “I want to date you for forever,” and she’s probably supposed to be afraid or dubious of the permanency that that implies.</p><p>Flynn is silent for a long moment, and part of Julie’s gut starts to wriggle. She loves Luke, but if her best friend is against it, that’s something she should pay attention to. “You don’t approve?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light.</p><p>“I’m just trying to figure out what I’m going to put in my maid-of-honor speech. I can cut out the NC-17 stuff, but there’s no way I can tell the story of how you met without him coming across like a major dick.”</p><p>Julie can’t contain the smile on her face. She accidentally makes eye contact with a random stranger on the street, who gives her a wide berth, clearly distressed by the giant grin being sent their way. Normally Julie would feel embarrassed, but today she just can’t seem to care.</p><p>“So you’re on board?”</p><p>“You know you don’t need my permission.”</p><p>“Of course not, but… do you think we’re good together?”</p><p>Flynn hesitates, and Julie bites her lip nervously. “I want you to be with someone who thinks you hang the moon and challenges you to hang it and then helps you do it. And I don’t know that you’ve ever met anyone who embodies that more than Luke Patterson.”</p><p>The lump in her throat prevents Julie from answering immediately, but she grins it away. “Let’s hope Reggie and Alex agree.”</p><p>“Yeahhh, I really don’t think you need to worry about them.”</p>
<hr/><p>Julie hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours, and she’s giddy with bliss and exhaustion as she and Luke lounge together on the wall of the courtyard of the philosophy building. She’s sitting between his legs, resting her back against his chest, and his fingers are playing absently with her bracelets, and she feels so warm and loved that she could dissolve into happiness.</p><p>It’s so much better than any of her Luke-at-USC fantasies.</p><p>She picks up her phone and texts her dad:</p><p>
  <b>This probably won’t surprise you at all, but Luke and I are dating now.</b>
</p><p>
  <i>If you need me to act surprised, I can</i>
</p><p>Luke chuckles in her ear.</p><p>“Are you reading my texts?” she asks, failing to sound sassy.</p><p>“You’re literally holding your phone in front of my face.”</p><p>As Luke kisses her temple, more texts from her father pop up.</p><p>
  <i>But I’m very happy to hear that. You already know I approve<br/>
When do I get to re-meet him?</i>
</p><p>She peers back up at Luke, gaze questioning. He raises an eyebrow. “Meeting your dad?”</p><p>“But as my boyfriend.”</p><p>His whole face lights up at the word, and his joy makes her heart feel like it’s singing “Der Hölle Rache.”</p><p>“Whenever you want.” He tucks his face into her shoulder and grins again into her skin.</p><p>
  <b>Maybe in a couple weeks, after finals? He’s usually off work Thursdays and Fridays, so either of those days are probably easiest.</b>
</p><p>Luke kisses the crook of her neck. “I love you.”</p><p>“Because I know your work schedule?”</p><p>“And about a thousand other reasons, yeah.”</p><p>She leans her head back on his shoulder so she can look him in the eye. “Your parents?”</p><p>“We’ve got our Monthly Call on Tuesday. I’ll probably spend the entire time talking about my girlfriend.” She suspects she’s doing the same ridiculous happy face he did, because he grins and nuzzles her nose. “Both because I like talking about you and because then they can’t complain about my other life choices.”</p><p>“But am I going to re-meet them?”</p><p>His shrug seems genuinely indifferent, rather than forced. “At some point. I mean, we don’t really do meals or holidays together anymore, but they’re not, like, uninvited from the wedding.”</p><p>Her mouth falls open. He turns bright red and buries his face in her shoulder. “Shit, I didn’t mean—Just, things aren’t so bad that I won’t invite them if I ever <i>do</i> get married. It’s a barometer of how bad my relationship with my parents is, not… Fuck, I’m so tired, I have no filter right now.”</p><p>“Flynn says you’re going to come across like a dick in her maid-of-honor speech,” she says casually.</p><p>Pulling his face up, he beams at her like it’s the best news he’s ever heard. As he weaves their hands together, he replies eagerly, “That’s fair. The real problem is, what’s our first dance gonna be? ‘Perfect Girl’? ‘Der Hölle Rache’? ‘By Myself’? ‘Hot Blooded’? ‘Crazier Things’? ‘Get Off’?’”</p><p>“A medley?” she suggests, barely able to contain her grin.</p><p>“A mash-up?” he counters.</p><p>She laughs and rests her head back on his shoulder. “You want to mash-up ‘Der Hölle Rache’ and ‘Get Off’?”</p><p>“That’s how the guests’ll know they’re at the wedding of a musical power couple.”</p><p>“That’s going to be basically impossible to put together.”</p><p>He kisses her temple and nuzzles his face in next to hers. “Then I guess we’ll have to get started right away.”</p>
<hr/><p>With cups of coffee in hand, Luke and Julie step tentatively through the door of the house. Even though Luke’s been insistent the whole walk over that Alex and Reggie are on board, Julie feels weirdly nervous, like…</p><p>… well, like she’s meeting his family for the first time.</p><p>Which is ridiculous because she’s already met them and they’re her family too, but her stomach is still a jumbled mess as Luke tugs her over to the living room where Alex and Reggie sit.</p><p>As soon as Reggie’s eyes fall on their clasped hands, he lets out a squeal, leaps through the air, and tosses his arms around Julie. A decidedly calmer Alex rescues Julie’s coffee from her hand and passes it to Luke before wrapping her and Reggie in a tight hug.</p><p>“What about me?” Julie can hear the pout in Luke’s voice, even if she can’t see him.</p><p>“You already got a hug,” Reggie insists.</p><p>When the guys finally release Julie, Alex looks between her and Luke, stern. “I feel the need to check: you <i>have</i> talked about your feelings with actual words, right?”</p><p>Luke licks his finger and reaches for Alex’s ear, but Reggie smacks his hand away.</p><p>“We talked,” Julie confirms, smiling at Luke, who instantly smiles back. “He even accidentally proposed.”</p><p>Alex sighs loudly. “The two settings of Luke: hiding from words and using too many.”</p><p>“I didn’t propose! I just…” But as Luke gazes at her, his face goes soft and his voice trails off. “You called me your consort first.”</p><p>“But it was kind of an insult. Much less presumptuous.”</p><p>“Well, if today counts as a proposal, then you’re not getting another one. Someday you’ll wake up and there’ll be a ring waiting on your nightstand and that’ll be it.” He’s trying to keep sass in his voice, but his grin is too big.</p><p>She can’t even attempt sass, and she knows her smile is probably embarrassing. “I can live with that.”</p><p>Alex holds up his hands in despair. “The pacing of your relationship is <i>deeply</i> confusing to me.”</p><p>Luke grins and tugs Julie into his side, kissing her temple.</p><p>Grinning in spite of himself, Alex struggles to pull a serious expression onto his face. “Okay, but one ground rule. I don’t want to know what you did in Julie’s apartment, but Flynn said I should remind you that sex in communal spaces is rude.”</p><p>Julie wants to hide her face in Luke’s shoulder, but her boyfriend asks innocently, “What counts as a communal space?”</p><p>Reggie makes a face. “Oh no.”</p><p>Alex crosses his arms. “What did you do?”</p><p>“I’m just trying to figure out the definition of communal!”</p><p>“Anywhere we all hang out. Especially the garage.”</p><p>Julie doesn’t know which of their faces gives it away, but Alex groans and drops his face in his hands. “Please tell me you didn’t have sex on my drums.”</p><p>“I don’t think it’s possible to have sex on a drum kit,” Julie points out.</p><p>Luke turns to her. “Well, if you—”</p><p>“No. Stop right now,” Alex cuts them off, rubbing his fingers desperately on his forehead like he’s trying to erase the memories of the entire conversation.</p><p>Reggie waves dismissively at Luke. “You. Go away for a second.”</p><p>“Because of the garage thing?”</p><p>“We need to talk to Julie.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Band stuff,” Alex stresses gently. The words are loaded with meaning she doesn’t understand, and Luke’s face lights up in recognition as he nods.</p><p>He catches her eye and smiles softly. “See you soon.”</p><p>She grins back. “See you soon.” Luke bounces down the hallway to his bedroom, and she watches him go, heart swelling with fondness at that absurd walk.</p><p>Left alone with her bandmates, Julie is reminded of her nerves as Alex gestures for her to take a seat on the couch. “Is this the ‘hurt him and we bury you’ talk?”</p><p>“Kind of the opposite actually,” Alex replies as he and Reggie sit on the coffee table across from her. “Luke mentioned that you said some stuff that made it sound like…” Alex looks to Reggie for help.</p><p>“Like you think we might kick you out of the band someday,” the bassist supplies.</p><p>“Oh.” She eyes them, not sure where this is going.</p><p>“That’s not a thing that’s ever going to happen,” Alex assures her gently. “This is your band.”</p><p>“Literally. Your name is on it. If anything, <i>you</i> can kick <i>us</i> out,” Reggie says it perkily, then catches up with what he said. “But please don’t.”</p><p>Alex sighs. “Why don’t we stick with, no one is kicking anyone out?”</p><p>Julie nods, but she doesn’t really believe it because she knows these three are a unit. Her disbelief must show on her face, because Reggie ducks his head to grab her gaze. “Working with you has changed us. So even if you decide you get bored of us and move on, we’re not ever going to go back to being Sunset Curve. We can’t. We’re not the same musicians anymore.”</p><p>Alex leans forward. “And no matter what happens with the band or with you and Luke, you’re family and we’re not going anywhere. You’re not an optional part of our lives anymore, Jules.”</p><p>Don’t cry, don’t cry. But her eyes definitely feel wet, and Alex and Reggie immediately sweep her into another hug, this time much calmer and gentler.</p><p>“I love you guys,” she whispers.</p><p>“We love you too,” Reggie murmurs back.</p><p>When she finally pulls back, she eyes them for a second, then forces herself to ask, “You two know us best. You think this is a good idea?” Her dad and Flynn’s support means a lot, but Alex and Reggie are the ones who know Luke, and after a year of confusion and pining, she wants the opinion of people who have her boyfriend’s best interests at heart.</p><p>Reggie grins. “Are you kidding? We thought Luke had an unrequited crush, or else we would have been shipping this thing ourselves.”</p><p>“<i>Unrequited?</i>”</p><p>“I mean, we knew you wanted to…” Alex searches for a euphemism. “Defile our rehearsal space with him?” She has to force herself to maintain eye contact. “But we didn’t know… Fuck, we probably should have.” He and Reggie make eye contact and sigh, almost synchronized in their disappointment with themselves.</p><p>Julie shakes her head. “Our relationship was never your responsibility. I just… I know he’s been really good for me. I want to be sure that I’m good for him.”</p><p>“He’s at least 2% less of a disaster than he was last year, and that’s mostly thanks to you,” Reggie pipes up.</p><p>“Might even be 5%,” Alex counters with a smile, before turning a more serious eye on her. “Ever since the USC thing with his parents, Luke’s been… different. Like he was carrying this rage and pain all the time. For a long time, I—we were worried that it might warp him into this different, shittier person. But ever since he met you, he’s been… not the old Luke, exactly, but lighter and happier and more mature.”</p><p>“Like he might become a grown-up someday,” Reggie summarizes.</p><p>“You’ve been great for him. Like Reg said, if we’d known it was mutual…” Alex shakes his head, then nods it in the direction of Luke’s room. “Anyways, I’m sure he’s moping in your absence, so go make him smile again.”</p><p>Dubious, she chuckles. “We’ve been apart for, like, two minutes.”</p><p>Reggie laughs. “Oh, you’ve never met Relationship Luke before. You’re in for a surprise.”</p><p>She assumes he’s exaggerating, but when she opens Luke’s bedroom door, her boyfriend immediately wraps his arms around her. “You were gone for ages.” He pouts as he backs them up toward the bed.</p><p>She laughs in disbelief. “What are you going to do when I’m out of the country for five months?”</p><p>“Mope constantly. But I’ll be super chill about it.”</p><p>He plops down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and tucks her under his arm. She grins as she realizes that it’s the same position they were in the last time she was in his bed. As she rests her head on his shoulder, she remembers something. “That reminds me—I ran into my academic adviser before class. The Manchester program is full, so no England for me.”</p><p>“That sucks.”</p><p>“But there’s a really cool program in Galway she thinks will be a good match.” Julie hesitates for a second, glancing at him nervously. “So, if you want to come visit me in Ireland, we can probably still manage a detour to Scotland.”</p><p>Staring at her incredulously, Luke turns his whole body to face her. “You know I was always planning on visiting <i>you</i>, right? Like, Glasgow would be awesome, don’t get me wrong. But if I fly across the Atlantic and all we do is sit in your room and eat biscuits, I’m gonna be so fucking happy.”</p><p>The idea of him working hundreds of hours at the gelato shop so that he can fly all the way to Ireland just to hang out is simultaneously sweet and upsetting. “So what you’re saying is, you’re planning to visit me because you want biscuits.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, I’m trying to be romantic here.” He kisses the tip of her nose gently.</p><p><i>I love you</i>, her heart says. “I love you,” she says. “Let’s please do something cooler when you visit.”</p><p>“Deal. For now, what do you want to do?”</p><p>On instinct, she almost says, “Whatever you want to do.” But fuck that. She’s a string obedient woman with a preference. “Cuddles and a nap? And then I think you said something about eating me out.”</p><p>He slides them down so they’re lying on the bed instead of propped up by the headboard. “As the queen commands.”</p><p>As she snuggles into him and his arms wrap around her, she realizes that there’s a feeling in her stomach that she hasn’t felt in over fourteen months. Peace. She’s not sure what comes next, but for now, she’s going to hold onto that.</p><p>She’s earned it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A twoshot checking back in with this lot a year down the line while Julie studies abroad is <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348122">here</a>! It was supposed to be a fluffy wee oneshot, but it turned out that Julie (and Luke) had more journey to go on, so it became a whole fic, whoops.</p><p><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamiRugbee/pseuds/MamiRugbee">MamiRugbee</a> drew the 100 Bad Days verse Juke and they're ridiculously cute and you should definitely check them out <a href="https://pearlcaddy.tumblr.com/post/646464036327817216/good-morning-everyone-its-a-new-morning-and-a">here</a>!</p><p>If you're a tumblr person, you can find me there as <a href="https://pearlcaddy.tumblr.com">pearlcaddy</a>!</p><p>Song in this chapter:<br/>• "Perfect Girl" by The Stereotypes<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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